


Have Vigorous Sexual Intercourse Until The Pain Goes Away

by FacelessGhoul (MorphineFangs)



Category: Bleach
Genre: ((buuuutttt just 2 in a row tbh, ???? maybe, Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Biting, Casual Sex, Character Bashing, Fellatio, HichiGrimmIchi, How Do I Tag, I have PLANS for this I just have to get around to them, I mean I won't go into detail but they carry on a normal conversation while banging, I'm Going to Hell, IchiGrimmHichi, IchiShiro, Ichigo don't bust Shiro's balls you asshole, M/M, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Oh also, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Self-cest, Seme Ichigo, ShiroGrimmIchi, Slight Orihime bashing, TECHNICALLY TBH, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M, Uke Hollow Ichigo, Voyeurism, and no Orihime isn't going to be the 'bad guy' in later chapters, did I get them all???, dominant Ichigo, for now..., grimmshiro, he's damn thirsty, horny Ichigo, i'm tag happy hush, ichihichi, implied past Ichigo/Orihime, it seems like H!Ichi's the sub at first but they actually switch a lot later, no I'm not kidding, okay tbh I don't know what to call that threesome because hardly anyone even gives it any love, porn with vague plot, probably, shhhh, submissive Hollow Ichigo, will add more tags as I add more story... when I feel like it, will have more plot later when I feel like adding it, you better take this bull by the horns because it's only getting kinkier from here on out I s2g
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-06-03 03:53:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6595561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorphineFangs/pseuds/FacelessGhoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So basically, Orihime was cheating on Ichigo with Uryu (which will be gone into more detail at a later date), and Ichigo's really heartbroken over it, so sex happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Make Me Forget

**Author's Note:**

> I was gonna title this "Fuck Away The Pain" on here as well, but opted not to. Besides, this title is funnier.
> 
> There will be slight Orihime bashing, but should I decide to continue, she will not explicitly be the ‘bad guy’, and will be redeemed.

“I… I just don’t get it,” Ichigo murmured, the sharp pang of heartbreak clearly heard in his quivering tone.

He was blinking rapidly, as if to ward off impending tears.  Which was most likely exactly that, judging from the suspicious shine in his beautiful soft brown eyes.

“I would have given her everything… I-I _did_ give her everything,” the redhead continued to murmur to himself.

He collapsed on his bed as his shaking legs gave out beneath him.  His body was coldly numb, though his bedroom was room temperature.

“Am I not good enough?” he asked in a whisper to no one in particular, but someone heard.

**

 _He_ heard.

And he was not pleased with what he was hearing.

How _dare_ she?  That bitch.  Messing with his King’s head!  Fucking with his pure heart!

She had been his first.  His first kiss.  His first lover.  His first girlfriend.

The hollow knew this.  He knew it so very intimately well.  He knew something had been off about that conniving little vixen, but even he hadn’t anticipated she’d sink quite so low.

His poor King… his poor, beautiful, strong King was so broken.  So shattered.  A mere shadow of his former self, and all it had taken was a few tiny seconds.  A few short minutes.  A single instance, and he was torn down so completely.

But that was okay.  The hollow would make it all better.  The hollow would pick up the pieces and put them back together.  He’d mend his King’s broken heart…

… and he’d make that miserable wretch pay.

At the muted whimpers his King was emitting as he tried his damnedest not to make a sound as he cried, the hollow was brought back to reality.

He’d make sure that bitch got hers… but first came his King.

Within seconds of concentration, the hollow had managed to materialize in a tangible form in Ichigo’s world.

His King’s despondency and lack of response to the hollow’s appearance was truly a testament to how badly he’d been hurt.  The hollow briefly allowed a scowl that rivaled Ichigo’s own to cross his visage.

He stepped closer to the bed, he at the foot, and his King at the head.  He’d just set a hand on the duvet when he heard Ichigo mutter something too low for him to catch.

“What was tha’?” the hollow asked, confused.

Ichigo glanced over warily, but aside from that he made no effort to move or otherwise display displeasure, “… asked why you’re out here…”

Not even _how_ , but _why_.

The hollow shook his head with a roll of his eyes.  He then crawled onto the bed toward Ichigo, “Isn’t tha’ obvious, King?  Yer horse is here t’ comfort ya.”

With that same despondent, dejected expression, the redhead looked away.

The hollow gently hooked an arm around Ichigo’s shoulders as he settled into the pillows, pulling his King along with him.  He leaned back against the wall, nestling Ichigo in between his legs with his back against the hollow’s chest.

Ichigo stiffened at first, but soon relaxed into the embrace.  The hollow rested the side of his face against the top of Ichigo’s head and held him for what could have been a few minutes or a few hours.  It mattered not to him.

Eventually, Ichigo gave a pathetic sniffle and whimper before turning in the hollow’s arms and burying his face in his hollow’s shihakusho.  The hollow said nothing.  Merely held his King silently as Ichigo cried his little heart out into the hollow’s chest.

The hollow stroked pale fingers through soft orange locks, carefully untangling knots as he found them.

After Ichigo had finished, no longer able to squeeze out anymore tears three whole hours later, he took in a deep breath and let it out in a soft, shaky sigh, “I’m sorry for breaking down like that.  It’s unlike me…”

“Ain’t anythin’ wrong with cryin’ sometimes.  ‘Sides, this is different than fightin’.  If ya’d cried over _fightin_ ’, then I’d laugh at ya.  Love, though… love is different.  

“I don’t blame ya fer cryin’ over a girl.  ‘S not nice,” the hollow was still stroking Ichigo’s hair, other hand rubbing small circles into his back, “I’m here fer ya, King.  Forever an’ always.  Others, they may hurt ya or leave ya, but I won’t.  Tell me what ya need, my King.”

Ichigo sniffled again, pulling away a scant few inches to look at his hollow with wide, slightly reddened eyes.  He bit his lips.  Fingers clenched in the white cloth covering the hollow’s chest.

“I want to… forget,” Ichigo murmured, “I want you to make me forget.”

The hollow’s brow furrowed, “Well, alterin’ yer memories would be hard, but not impossible.  If that’s what ya—”

“No.”

“No?” the hollow cocked his head to the side.

Ichigo’s fingers clenched more tightly in the hollow’s kosode, “I don’t want to forget… like that…”

“Then how?” the hollow asked with a tiny frown.

“I want you to…” Ichigo trailed off, looking away.

The hollow watched as delicate high cheekbones were dusted a faint reddish hue, and then— it clicked.

He tightened his hold around Ichigo, “Ya sure that’s what’cha want?”

Ichigo stared at him a few seconds, then nodded.

And then the hollow was lifting up Ichigo’s chin with slender, black-nailed fingers.  He leaned in, deliberately slow, in case Ichigo changed his mind after all.

Ichigo didn’t pull away.  White lips met tan in a perfectly cliched, chaste kiss.  It was soft, short and sweet, unlike all their viciously ruthless fights.

The hollow wanted his King to be comfortable.  This was for him to feel better.  He’d let Ichigo take the lead, so they’d only go as far as Ichigo wanted, and nothing more.

They parted and stared into each other’s eyes.  Yellow on black shone with concern.  Ichigo’s own were soft, showing confusion as his brow furrowed.

Ichigo’s eyes were quickly clouded over with lust in the next moment, however.

Ichigo’s hands slammed on either side of his hollow’s head and he leaned in for a much more bruising kiss.  It was desperate.  Needy.  Hungry.

But the hollow was okay with that.  He’d give Ichigo anything he needed in a heartbeat.  He’d take anything Ichigo gave him as well.

Ichigo licked at pale lips, begging for entrance the hollow all too willingly granted.  He explored the inside, mapping out every curve and crevice of the hollow’s mouth, rubbing his tongue against his own blue.

Only when both their lungs were screaming for sorely needed oxygen did Ichigo break away.  Ichigo didn’t pause for long.  Already, he was biting at the hollow’s bottom lip, tugging it gently, then pressed another firm kiss to the hollow’s lips.

The redhead dragged his lips down surprisingly soft pale skin, finding a spot behind the hollow’s ear that had the paler man gasping in a sharp inhale when Ichigo nipped and suckled the tender skin there.  Unconsciously, he arched up against Ichigo.

Ichigo growled, leaning fully against the hollow at the light contact, grinding their hips together roughly.  The hollow could feel the bulge of Ichigo’s arousal against his own, even through the fabric of Ichigo’s jeans and the hollow’s white hakama.

The sensations were intoxicating.

The hollow gasped again, tipping his head back to the side, providing Ichigo more skin to work with.

Ichigo thrust against him again, and the hollow shivered, shocks of pleasure skittering up and down his spine before ending in his groin.  Ichigo moved farther down the hollow’s neck and sucked roughly at a spot just off the center of his throat.

The hollow jolted again, meeting Ichigo’s next thrust.  He reached around Ichigo, pressing his fingers against his King’s back.  As Ichigo bit at another sensitive spot somewhere above his clavicle, the hollow’s fingers curled and dark nails scratched weakly up Ichigo’s back.

This seemed to only spur Ichigo on further, because he pressed his face into the crook of the hollow’s neck to muffle a moan, grinding their hips together more firmly.

The hollow smirked mischievously, repeating the action and scraping his nails up either side of Ichigo’s spine.

The redhead panted, unexpectedly biting into the hollow’s shoulder.  The hollow bit his lip as he moaned.  Ichigo moved back up the hollow’s neck and nipped sharply at the lobe of his ear.

After licking up around the shell of the hollow’s ear, he whispered, “I don’t want you to hold it in.  Let me hear the sounds you make.”

“Say wha— _ahhn!_ ”  the hollow felt his hips jerk upward of their own accord when Ichigo palmed his erection through his hakama.  The cloth was thin enough that it almost felt like it wasn’t there at all.

“Yes, just like that,” Ichigo was still whispering huskily.

The hollow shivered from his ministrations, the combined sensation of Ichigo’s hand fully pressed against him, hot breath wafting against his neck and ear.

“K- _King!_ ” the hollow said breathlessly, digging his nails into the small of Ichigo’s back.

Ichigo nuzzled the side of his neck as his hand dove into the hollow’s hakama.

“Ahh— _mm-mmm_ …!” the hollow couldn’t help it as he thrust into Ichigo’s hand.  He could feel his King grinning against the skin of his shoulder all the while.

Ichigo gave a few loose tugs, mouthing up and down the hollow’s neck.  He went back to the juncture between neck and shoulder, alternating between sucking and giving long, slow strokes of his tongue.

If not for his instant regeneration, he’d probably get a dark hickey— somehow, the hollow wasn’t opposed to the idea of that.  In fact, he rather liked it.

The hollow whined as Ichigo released his hold on his erection, fingers skittering higher to explore the fine white hair just above, then down and to the softer skin of the inside of his thigh.  Purposely avoiding touching the hollow’s erection again.

“Tease!” the hollow snapped, wiggling his hips.  He’d been so close, dammit.

Ichigo chuckled and bit his neck.  Hard.

“Ah!”

“Be patient,” Ichigo placed an apologetic kiss where he’d bitten.  “Can’t have you coming already, can I?”

“K _iiing_ …!” the hollow whined petulantly, but ended up moaning a moment later when Ichigo suddenly thrust against him again.  The hollow looked into lust-filled eyes with a touch of surprise, “I wasn’t sure at first… but ya get off on me callin’ ya tha’, don’t’cha?”

“Shut up,” Ichigo growled, but didn’t deny it— he grabbed the hollow’s erection, pumping it at a ruthlessly quick pace.

The hollow didn’t stand a chance.  He was left a shuddering mess, gasping and moaning, whining as he was overcome with the pleasurable sensations.  The hollow was vaguely aware of his voice raising in pitch as delicious heat curled inside his abdomen.

He felt himself getting closer, nearly at the edge, in so much mind-numbing pleasure, and then— nothing.

“Fuck!” the hollow hissed.

“Working on it,” Ichigo replied to the expletive without missing a beat.

“Huh?” the hollow asked dumbly, watching as Ichigo reached one hand over to the bedside table and pulled a bottle of lube from the drawer, “Uh… why ya got that?”

“Do you _want_ me to go in dry?” Ichigo asked, as if it was perfectly obvious, quirking a brow.

“Um, no,” the hollow said, then shook his head, “wait, no, tha’ wasn’t what I meant.  Ya only ever were with Orihime, so why ya got tha'?”

Ichigo shrugged casually, popping the bottle open, “I like to experiment.  Turns out I was never as straight as I originally thought.”

“An’ ya experimented on…?” the hollow winced as one slicked finger pressed inside him.

“Myself, of course.  Who else?” Ichigo replied, working the hollow open slowly.  He licked his lips idly, his brow furrowing in concentration, “Like you said, there was only ever her.”

The hollow relaxed as the pain died down to just a feeling of strangeness, “An’ how come I didn’t know ‘bout this?”

“Who knows?” Ichigo chuckled and added a second finger.  Playfully, he suggested, “Maybe you were sleeping?”

The hollow winced as he was stretched slightly wider by the added finger.  He was finally recognizing their conversation for what it was— a distraction.  One that was fully welcome.

He did his best to focus on listening and answering, rather than the discomfort below.

“Really now?  How long ya known ‘bout yer sexuality?” the hollow asked, closing his eyes in attempt to further block out the pain.

“A while,” Ichigo wiggled his two fingers inside the hollow, but didn’t move them more than that just yet, “I’d notice how attractive some of the other guys looked, and how nice someone's muscles felt against me, although that didn’t happen often.  I’d find myself daydreaming about what it would be like to feel those muscles against me with nothing in between.  All sorts of fantasies about fucking.  Or being fucked.  I don’t think I’m really picky about it.”

“Oh?” the hollow managed not to wince when Ichigo pulled his fingers out to just the second knuckle and pushed them back in, repeating the process a few times.

“Yeah.  I thought you were kind of hot when I first saw you too, actually,” Ichigo admitted, giving deeper, longer thrusts now.

“No offense, King, but I think that’s— _ahhn!_ ” he gasped sharply— “narcissism!  What was _that?!_ ”

Ichigo smirked, waggling his brows suggestively, “I think you already know the answer to that.”

“Did you just hit my—?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh…  Do that again,” the hollow all but demanded.

Smirking again, Ichigo obliged.  He hit the hollow’s sweet spot a few more times, then pulled his fingers out to add a third.  The hollow hardly noticed the pain of the added third finger, still reeling from the aftershocks of pleasure.

A few more good thrusts and a rough tug or two on the hollow’s erection and he was a goner, coming with a surprised cry.  He hadn’t expected Ichigo to let him release so soon.

The hollow felt like he was going to melt into an oozing puddle any second all over Ichigo’s bed.  His limbs felt heavy and weak, and he couldn’t move an inch even if he wanted to.  Chest heaving as he panted, the hollow watched Ichigo with tired eyes.

“Thought ya were gonna fuck me…?” the hollow asked in a murmur, confused.

“I will,” Ichigo promised, “just not yet.  I wanted to spoil you a little first.”

“Mm…?” the hollow tried to sit up, but his limbs were still like putty.  He settled for giving the redhead a puzzled look instead.

“You didn’t think I was done with you already, did you?”

Ichigo thrust his fingers in and out, and the hollow felt himself hardening again.

“Oh no,” he unintentionally said out loud.

“Oh yes,” Ichigo said with a laugh as he pushed up the hollow’s kosode and shitagi, leaning down to nip at various spots of his lower belly.

“But King,” the hollow muttered as his body shivered from the orgasm he’d already had, “I _just came_.”

“It’s okay, I’ll do all the work,” Ichigo nosed at the hem of his hakama.  He then looked up into amber eyes, “Unless you’re not okay with that?  I’m okay with stopping if you want to.”

The hollow looked away, his cheeks burning, “… Don’t ya get me all excited like this an’ leave me high an’ dry.  ‘S just cruel.  ‘Sides, I did say I’d help ya… forget…”

Ichigo’s only response was a soft snicker before he tugged the hollow’s hakama down to his knees.  The hollow stared with wide eyes as a head of bright orange hair hovered over his erection.

The hollow’s only warning was a brief devilish grin flashed his way, and then Ichigo was swallowing down his shaft.

“Ho-how the f— _haa_ …” the hollow squirmed, giving a shallow thrust into Ichigo’s mouth when the redhead bobbed his head.  “How— _ha_ — is it— _ahnn!_ — that ya know how t’ do this?”

A few more bobs and Ichigo pulled off with a pop, “Would you believe me if I told you beginner’s luck?”

The hollow raised both brows, “… Riiight…”

“What?  It’s the truth, and you know it.”

“So…” the hollow drawled in a bored tone, “ya gonna fuck me, or nah?”

“Well, if you insist,” Ichigo replied with a grin.

He grabbed the lube from earlier, uncapping and tipping it over to apply a generous amount to slick himself up.  The hollow raised an incredulous brow at him.

“Trust me,” Ichigo told him, setting the bottle back on the bedside table and tugging the hollow’s hakama off, “more is less.”

“Wha— _nn_ …” the hollow stiffened, clenching down as Ichigo entered him.

Ichigo hissed, “Damn, you’re tight.”

“Give a guy a lil warning, would’ja?” the hollow asked, face twisting up with discomfort.

“Sorry,” the redhead buried his face in the hollow’s shoulder, panting heavily against his white skin.

The hollow shivered.  Ichigo dragged slow, open-mouthed kisses from shoulder to jawline and back down.  He sucked at the same spot in the crook of the hollow’s neck from before, and the pale twin was beginning to wonder if he had a thing for that particular spot.

The hollow brought his hands up behind Ichigo’s head, twining slender fingers in orange strands to pull his face up.  Ichigo easily allowed him to do so, letting him bring their mouths together in a sloppy kiss.

Ichigo gave a small experimental thrust into him and the hollow moaned into his mouth.

The pain had all but evaporated, leaving in its wake a sensation of curious fullness.  It was… indescribable.

Ichigo hiked the hollow’s pale, creamy legs up over his shoulders, and the hollow found himself admiring the nice contrast of his skin tone against Ichigo’s own.  If he saw it enough, he just might get addicted to the sight alone.

Ichigo pressed him into the wall, bracing his hands on either side of him.  With the next upward thrust, he received an immediate cry from the hollow— he was so deep inside!  

The deepest he’d been yet.

“M—… more!  King!”

Ichigo growled as his hollow called him by that name again, thrusting even harder.  The hollow suddenly felt the need to divest some of the redhead’s attire.  He tugged insistently at the back of Ichigo’s shirt collar.

Ichigo decided to spare a moment to lean back and help the hollow in taking his shirt off, letting pale legs fall to the mattress.  In one fluid motion, he yanked his shirt over his head and carelessly tossed it aside.  Before leaning back in, he tugged off the rest of the hollow’s shihakusho, letting the clothing fall and crumple on the bed.

As they pressed chest to chest, the hollow relished the feeling of skin against skin, Ichigo’s warmth seeping into his body.  

It was _amazing_.

Giving the hollow another kiss, a brief peck on the lips, Ichigo lifted the hollow’s legs up over his shoulders again.  Ichigo leaned against him until the hollow was bent in half, pressing so deeply inside that he was left gasping and panting.

They both braced their hands against the wall when Ichigo ground into him.  The redhead pressed his face back into the crook of his neck, breaths coming short and heavy.

When Ichigo remained motionless for longer than his liking, the hollow grumbled impatiently, pressing as firmly against Ichigo as he could.

He was delighted with how much this position filled him, how far inside Ichigo was, but the severely limited range of motion he had was maddening.  He was left with verbal demands to voice his displeasure.

“Move, dammit,” the hollow complained loudly, “I want ya t’ fuck me senseless!”

That was all the incentive Ichigo needed.  As if the hollow’s words had flipped some sort of switch, the redhead began thrusting in and out with reckless abandon.

The room was filled with the sounds of their frenzied lovemaking.  Their breath came in short gasps and pants, skin meeting skin with a sharp, rapid _slap_.  Every pull out and push into the hollow’s heat made sinuously lewd, wet sounds.

It all served to excite the hollow even more, driving him precariously close to the edge.  The hollow rested his forehead against Ichigo’s shoulder, losing himself in the rhythm of Ichigo’s body against his— in his.

He was so full.  It felt good.  He felt complete.  He never knew it could feel quite this euphoric to be filled up like this, to be taken this way.  His head was light, dizzy from the constant onslaught of pleasure.

Like electric jolts traveling outward to each outermost portion of his body and curling back to converge at his center.  Curling and curling into a tighter little ball in his abdomen.

He vaguely recognized this sensation as the feeling of another oncoming orgasm.

The hollow’s nails scraped at the wall, leaving shallow grooves in the once flawlessly smooth white surface (something that probably wasn’t physically possible for a human to do).  He hoped Ichigo wouldn’t mind when he noticed later.

Ichigo bit and sucked at every inch of the hollow’s neck he could reach.

His thrusts were becoming more erratic, and much less coordinated. But deeper.  Harder.  He was pounding into him, and the hollow was in utter bliss.  He whined and keened, his voice growing higher and higher as Ichigo brought him to completion.

Finally, Ichigo reached down and began pumping the hollow’s neglected erection.

He was muttering something over and over fervently under his breath, so low the hollow didn’t hear it at first.  The redhead was starting to say it more loudly, whatever it was.

“… Shi—… Shi…”

The hollow pulled back to look Ichigo in his lust-hazed honey brown eyes, “Wha’ did’ja call me…?”

Ichigo leaned in, nipping at the hollow’s ear, and whispered, “Shiro.”

As the name was spoken, something else inside him seemed to be filled up.  He jolted at the more insistent shocks of pleasure, and on Ichigo’s next thrust he came undone.  He clenched unbearably tight around Ichigo.

Newly dubbed Shiro panted and gasped wildly, reverently shouting out, “King!  K-King!  Ichigo!”

Ichigo groaned and with one final thrust, buried himself as deep as he could go inside Shiro, and Shiro was filled with his warm seed.

Ichigo then collapsed against him, catching his breath for a few seconds, then fell back on the mattress, dragging his hollow with him.  Shiro lay there, chest heaving with Ichigo’s own until they were both breathing normally again.

Shiro hummed, leaning up to kiss Ichigo’s throat softly.  He murmured, lips brushing the skin as he spoke, “I like my new name, King.”

Ichigo grunted, winding his arms around Shiro to hug him more closely to himself, “To be honest, I called you that in my head for a while.  I just never could find a good time to tell you I’d named you.”

“Now’s as good a time as any, hmm?” Shiro giggled, shifting his hips, and reminding Ichigo he was still buried inside the hollow.

Ichigo hissed, gritting his teeth, “You’re evil, you know that?”

“Ya love me,” the hollow replied cheekily, grinding down on the still sensitive Ichigo.  The other was quickly growing harder thanks to Shiro’s teasing.

With a growl, Ichigo flipped them over, pinning Shiro beneath him.  The redhead’s mouth hovered near the hollow’s as he said lowly, “Fuck yes, I do.”

Shiro’s pale lips quirked upward as he wrapped his legs around narrow, tan hips.  Grinding slowly against him, the hollow asked, “So, ready for round two?”


	2. Round Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I never wrote Round Two because doing too many of the exact same types of sex scenes bores me. So have Round Three instead.  
> Featuring Shiro on top. I plan to write them (and anyone who jumps in with them) as Switches. No one is strictly 'seme' or 'uke'.
> 
> On an unrelated note, I got overexcited and posted this without proofreading, so let me know if you catch a typo... or... something.
> 
> Anywayyy. Enjoy?

They’d fallen asleep for an unnamed period of time through the night.  Shiro remained materialized, his and Ichigo’s legs tangled together, arms wrapped around one another.  It was pleasant.  Warm.  Especially with the chill from the open window.

It was still dark out when yellow on black eyes slipped open.  Shiro glanced around in confusion, forgetting for a moment in his sleep-hazed mind that he was still in Ichigo’s world, or why for that matter.

Ichigo’s arms tightening around him brought the hollow back to reality.

As he looked back at the redhead’s face, he was met with open, honey brown eyes.

“Oh,” he said breathlessly to Ichigo, “you’re awake.”

“Mm…” Ichigo’s hands rubbed up and down his back, ending much lower as he grabbed Shiro’s ass, “so are you.”

Shiro raised a brow, “Don’t tell me yer still horny.”

“A little.”

"I’m not takin’ it up the ass a third time in a row,” Shiro grumbled, adding in a significantly quieter tone, “... sore already.”

Ichigo grinned, placing a quick kiss on the hollow’s lips, “Wouldn’t dream of it.  You fuck me this time.”

“Oh really…?” Shiro said slowly, heaving a dramatic sigh, “Well… I _s’pose_ I _could_ be persuaded inta ‘nother time or two.”

“Knew you’d come around,” Ichigo chuckled as he pulled Shiro on top of him.

“Hush,” Shiro teased, grinding against Ichigo, “the Great Shiro needs absolute silence, mortal.”

“‘The Great Shiro’?” Ichigo snorted, mirth in his eyes.  “You sound like some corny fake magician.”

“Ruinin’ my good vibes, Ichi.  I’m hurt.  I ought t’ punish ya.”

The redhead shivered, “I like the sound of that.”

Shiro slipped his hands up Ichigo’s bare torso, feeling the muscles beneath the sunkissed skin of his abs, “Mm…?  Sounds like _someone’s_ a bit—” he leaned down quickly, biting into Ichigo’s shoulder, “— kinky.”

Ichigo writhed, hips jerking up against Shiro’s, “Oh god.”

“Thought my name was Shiro,” the hollow snickered lightly, grabbing Ichigo’s hair to pull his head back and nibble at all the sensitive spots on the side of Ichigo’s neck.

Ichigo grabbed the hollow’s hips so he could grind harder against him, “I’ll call you whatever you want me to call you if you just fuck me into this mattress right now.”

“Now how can yer faithful horse ignore an order like that, King?” Shiro asked, eliciting a shudder and muffled moan from Ichigo.  He reached over to the nightstand and pulled out the lube from the last time.

Ichigo watched his movement with hungry eyes, “Don’t go as slow as I did last night.  I’m more used to it than you are.”

Shiro’s response was to hum as he slicked up his fingers.  He reached down, slipping a finger into Ichigo, and without pause started thrusting it in and out, “So talk t’ me, King.  How ya wanna be fucked?”

“Hmm?” true to his word, Ichigo didn’t so much as wince at the small intrusion.  He licked his lips, “What do you mean?  You can add another now.  I can take it.”

Shiro complied, “Ya want me t’ take ya like tha' first time ya did me?  Or the second, or…?”

Ichigo stared up at the ceiling in thought, “I’ve got another one I want to try.  I’ll show you when you’re done.  Add another.”

Ichigo really _was_ able to take it a lot faster than Shiro.  He shouldn’t have been surprised— the minx had already admitted to ‘experimenting’ before this.  The hollow found himself idly wondering how far Ichigo had stretched himself before.

Shiro was the first one he’d be doing it this way with.  If Ichigo had been craving it for a while, he may very well have done some quite kinky things to fulfill his… needs.  Shiro twitched at the thought.

He wanted to see for himself how much would fit…

“Say, Ichi,” Shiro said as he hit the redhead’s sweet spot.

Ichigo’s eyes had been scrunched shut, but at the hollow’s voice, they fluttered open.  He stared down at Shiro, his face flushed, “Yeah?”

“Jus’ wanderin’ how much ya can take,” Shiro said offhandedly, pulling his fingers out to circle Ichigo’s hole teasingly.

His King spread his legs wider invitingly, “Care to find out?”

“Damn, yer thirsty,” Shiro breathed, but he was already thrusting four fingers in Ichigo’s heat.

Ichigo bit his lip, arching his back, “Oh… oh god, that feels…. _m-mmm_ …”

Shiro stared up at his flushed face in open wonder.  

He was so beautiful.  

That flushed face.  The way he held that plump lip between his teeth.  Those lovely brown eyes glazed in a lusty haze.

Shiro wanted to worship him.  Worship his body.  Worship such a beautiful King who made all these sounds and writhed so prettily for him.

Ichigo tossed his head to the side, staring down at the pale look alike sideways, “Why’d you stop, Shiro?”

To his surprise, the hollow had indeed stopped.  So enamored was he by the sight of his debauched Ichigo.

“Yer so beautiful,” he said fervently and truthfully in a whisper, but Ichigo heard it.  Shiro thrust his fingers back into that tight heat, “it’s amazin’.  I was just thinkin’ how I’d love t’ worship ya, King.”

Ichigo’s body was trembling as he squirmed ever so slightly.  His cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of red, “Wh-what are you on about?”

“I mean it,” Shiro lifted up one of Ichigo’s legs, tossing it over his shoulder.  He kissed the inside of his thigh, lips lingering there, then gave a long stroke of his tongue before biting down.

Ichigo gave a full body shudder and a long, drawn out moan as Shiro held the flesh between his teeth and sucked roughly.  All the while he continued to thrust his fingers.  In, out.  In, out.

Shiro moved a little higher, repeating the action.  He lifted Ichigo’s other leg over his shoulder, moving to lick and bite up the inside of his thigh.

Ichigo’s fingers clawed at the duvet, his back arching clear off the bed.  Shiro could feel his legs trembling on his shoulders.

Shiro stopped when he got to Ichigo’s erection, and the redhead’s eyes opened a little wider to watch him curiously.  The hollow licked his lips, staring down at the reddened, leaking head.  He called up the information on what to do from the link between their minds (a perk of being a part of Ichigo), then grinned mischievously up at Ichigo.

He licked the top experimentally with the flat of his tongue, catching the droplets of salty precum in his mouth.  It was a strange taste, but not unpleasant.  It was the taste of Ichigo, so the hollow liked it.

Another lick, then he took the head into his mouth and sucked hard.  Ichigo’s breathing quickened, a small whine escaping his lips.

As he pulled his fingers from Ichigo and thrust them deeply back inside, he swallowed him down to the base with ease.

Ichigo threw his head back into the pillow with a loud moan, “ _Gah— ahh_ … _!_  Do you even _have_ a gag reflex?!”

“Mm-mnn…” Shiro hummed what he hoped sound like a negative around his mouthful, making Ichigo shiver at the sensation.

Maybe it was a hollow thing.  Shiro figured it made devouring souls quickly a great deal easier.  Although, he personally thought it served a much better purpose as a tool for insanely good fellatio.

“Shh… Shir— _ohh_ …” Ichigo moaned as the hollow bobbed his head.

The hollow alternated between deep-throating Ichigo and suckling and nibbling at the head— something that surprisingly had Ichigo practically turning into a puddle of goo.  Every time Shiro swallowed him down, he punctuated it with a thrust inside, nailing him right in that spot he liked so much.

Ichigo locked his legs around the hollow, pulling him closer as he gasped and moaned.  His shivers were becoming more frequent, his entire body visibly shuddering.

With a final cry, he came undone.  Shiro swallowed around him, drinking down every drop.  He sat back, slipping his fingers from Ichigo’s abused hole.

Ichigo lay there, panting and sweating.  His legs, though no longer crossed behind Shiro’s head, still hung loosely over his shoulders.

“Th—… that’s not it, is it?” Ichigo asked, voice holding an undertone of disappointment.

“‘Course not,” Shiro laughed, “‘m still hard, ain’t I?”

Ichigo glanced underneath himself where he could see the hollow’s weeping cock, the usually white tone darkened as it was swollen and hard with arousal.  Ichigo’s cheeks reddened again.

“G-good,” he stuttered, “wasn’t gonna let you stop until you fucked me anyway.”

Shiro snickered at him, grabbing the lube to slick himself up.

“Wait!” Ichigo said as the hollow was about to enter him.

Shiro sighed, deflating a little, “Ichi, what the actual hell?”

“I still want you to fuck me.  Just not… like this.  There’s another one I want to try.”

Shiro perked up at this, backing off to give the redhead space to move, “Well, let’s see it then.”

Shiro wasn’t sure whether he was more surprised or pleased when Ichigo rolled onto his stomach and pushed his ass up in the air.  Now _there_ was a sight for sore eyes.

“Like this,” Ichigo mumbled, glancing back at the hollow unsurely, “if that’s okay?”

The hollow leaned forward with a growl, biting the left cheek.  Ichigo cried out, more from surprise than actual pain.  The redhead muffled a moan into his pillow when Shiro smoothed it over with a long, apologetic lick.

“Okay?” Shiro finally asked.  “It’s perfect.”

Shiro leaned back, placing his hands on either cheek and spread that glorious, sweet ass apart.  His cock gave a slight twitch at the sight of Ichigo’s puckered entrance.

Ichigo wiggled his hips impatiently, glaring back at him, “Hurry up!  I need you inside me _today!_ ”

“Mm… I should make ya wait longer just fer that, ya cheeky lil shit,” Shiro grinned, lining himself up as he spoke, “lucky fer ya, I’m too horny t’—” _thrust—_ “wait!”

Ichigo whimpered and moaned softly.  Shiro frowned, pressing himself down against his King’s back, forcing himself to remain still.

“Did I hurt ya?” he murmured with a touch of concern.

The redhead quickly shook his head, resting the side of his face against the pillow, “F-feels good,” he said breathlessly, fingers curling in the duvet.

Shiro hummed, moving to kiss a sensitive spot at the nape of Ichigo’s neck.  At the noticeable shiver, he smirked and lightly scraped his teeth down the spot and sucked at the skin.

Ichigo arched back into Shiro, causing the hollow to growl softly.

“Fuck me,” he demanded, “now.”

“Alrigh’, ya asked fer it!”

“ _Ahhn!_ ”

“Fuck, Ichi, yer so fuckin’— tight!” Shiro moaned as he thrust into the mewling redhead.

“Mmm… and you’re so— _ah!_ — b-big,” Ichigo pushed back against pale white hips.

“‘S tha’ a joke?  ‘Course I am.  We’re exactly the same,” the hollow snickered, leaning over and licking a line up his spine.

Ichigo arched his back, moaning louder, “Asshole, I’m gonna cum if you keep doing stuff like that—” Shiro grabbed his erection— “ _nngh—!_ ”

He pumped Ichigo’s cock, licking his lips as he watched him quiver beneath him, “Oh?  ‘S tha’ a bad thing… _King?_ ”

“A- _ah!_ ” the redhead’s legs wobbled, threatening to give out beneath him.  “I love when you call me that, S-Shiro— _hh-ahn—_ ”

Shiro wrapped an arm around Ichigo’s waist, keeping the redhead’s hips in the air as he pounded mercilessly into him— faster, faster, “‘S tha' so, King?  An’ I love when ya call me by the name ya gave me.  Scream it fer me King— scream my name as loud as ya dare.”

“Sh— _Shiro!_ ”

“Louder!”

“Shiro, Shiro!  Shi— _haa— Shiro!_ ”

“That’s it, Ichi,” Shiro breathed, “jus’ like that.”

With a pump and a twist of Shiro’s hand, Ichigo was cumming in spurts all over the covers.  Shiro muffled a moan when the redhead tightened around his cock, and he knew he was getting close too.

Releasing his hold on Ichigo’s waist, he lowered himself on top of the other, forearms pressed into the mattress with his chest pressed flush against Ichigo’s back.  The redhead moaned softly with every shallow thrust, eyes closed and cheeks reddened as he rested the side of his face on his pillow.

He reached back, stroking a hand up and down Shiro’s side, feeling the muscles ripple beneath his palm as the hollow fucked him.  Shiro shivered at the touch, but didn’t slow.

Ichigo dragged his nails up the hollow’s hips, scratching just enough to leave faint marks, and then with a slight whimper, Shiro was undone as well.  He lay there for a while, still inside the redhead.

“No fair, cheater,” Shiro mumbled, “touching me places.”

Ichigo chuckled, “Mm… who knows how long you would’ve been at it if I didn’t.”

Shiro snorted, but said nothing to that.  He licked up Ichigo’s spine again, getting a shiver out of the boy, then proceeded to place soft, quick kisses in various places on his back.  He then pressed the side of his head on Ichigo’s back, snuggling up against him.

Ichigo hummed, “That was good.  We should do it again.”

“Not right now,” Shiro groaned, “mm sleepy.”

“Might wanna pull out then, Mr. ‘Mm sleepy’, before I get horny again.  I’m not letting you rest if I get hard.”

Shiro whined, but obeyed, “Mm’kay,” pulling out, he rolled onto his back, tugging the redhead on top of him, chest to chest, “this good?”

“Perfect,” Ichigo pecked him on the lips, grinning.

“Quiet now.  Me sleepy.  Sleep,” Shiro grumbled, closing his eyes.

Ichigo laughed, but relented nonetheless.


	3. Ménage à Trois

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I needed an excuse to add my favorite Espada. Dun judge me. Also, yes, my version of Grimmy is a virgin. I have my reasons. Most of which are inappropriate.  
> Also, my version of Shiro seems to have a go-to threat of eating people. Fancy that.
> 
> Look at me babbling! You didn't come here to see me babble. Hahaha.
> 
> As usual, let me know if you catch any typos, that sort of thing. You're not annoying me with constructive criticism, honestly.  
> Without further ado!

Grimmjow didn’t think himself stupid or anything.

However, what he did think of himself, was that he was a simple man.  Not a lot was ever on his mind, and it didn’t take much to please him.  His days consisted of three key things, and those things only: fight, eat, sleep— rinse and repeat.  Nothing too complicated, nothing confusing to remember or puzzle over.

Sure, some arrancar were a little more complex than he.  He was no stranger to the concept of sex.  Plenty of other arrancar (Espada, even), showed rapt interest in the practice.

It was just not something that struck him personally as appealing.  He wasn’t revolted by the idea of fucking someone.  Not at all.  It was merely that he’d never found anyone attractive enough, someone that did it for him.

Sex was more of an optional thing, not necessary for him.  Something he viewed as ‘nice’ with a detached clinicalness.

He’d honestly begun to reach the conclusion that maybe he just wasn’t a sexual person.  That a person who’d make him want to take them to bed didn’t exist.

Given the aforementioned information, suffice to say he was surprised by what he happened upon in the human world.

As was not uncommon for the blue-haired Sexta, he’d completely disobeyed direct orders in order to run off and pick yet another fight with that carrot-top, Kurosaki.

He found him alright.  As expected, the moron’s reiatsu was the equivalent of a neon sign saying, “come eat me/fight me/whatever it is your species does” for all the world; shinigami, hollow or otherwise.

He landed on thin air just in front of Kurosaki’s window, which was shoved wide open— yet another careless lack of precaution on the shinigami’s part.  Not that something as weak as a flimsy film of glass would keep _him_ out or anything.

Because it wouldn’t.

He’d just hopped through the window when he saw _it_.

He wasn’t entirely sure what ‘it’ was at first.  Really, it just looked like a squirming, writhing mass of limbs.

Then he’d blinked and reassessed the sight.

Well.

“W-What the fuck is the big idea, Kurosaki?!” he shouted, as if he belonged there and somehow had the right to be offended.

Two nearly identical faces, one pure white and one sunkissed tan, turned to look at him.  Kurosaki’s hands were still roving over the pale chest above him as he turned his attention back to his… lover?

The white one spoke, “Oh, it’s Grimmy,” he said tauntingly, “hi, Grimmy, how the hell are ya?”

As the white look alike spoke, Kurosaki wrapped slender legs around his waist, arching up against him with an insistent growl.

“Alrigh’, alrigh’, King.  Hold yer horses,” the white one told Kurosaki, flipping their positions so carrot-top was above him, “damn, yer impatient.”

In retaliation, Kurosaki had leaned over him and sharply bit his shoulder.  He’d then proceeded to rock against the paler of the two with a soft sigh and slow, methodical movements.

Grimmjow watched with morbid fascination, and to his extreme chagrin, felt himself becoming aroused.  Of all the times to suddenly develop his libido.

Shiro idly stroked his hands up and down the ever so slight delicate curves of Kurosaki’s frame, “Annnd… he’s prob’ly good fer ‘while,” he turned his head back toward Grimmjow, “right then.  Where were we?”

Grimmjow stared, mortified, “You’re just… just gonna fuck him?  In front of me?!” he cried incredulously.

“Uh… yeah,” Shiro replied easily, giving a brief casual roll of his hips against the redhead, who gave an immediate moan that struck Grimmjow as distinctly erotic, “problem?  I mean, ya did kinda break inta our house. Not m’ problem ya got an eyeful.”

The Espada frowned, not sure what to say to that.  The guy had a point.  His brow furrowed, “What is this then?  Why do you smell so much like a hollow— no… not _like_ one… you _are_ one.”

“Ding ding, we gotta winner,” the hollow mocked him, but nonetheless looked mildly impressed, “nice nose ya got there, Grimmy.  Got it in one.  I’m Kingy here’s ‘inner hollow’.  Pleased t’ meet’cha.”

“I’d say the pleasure’s mine if it weren’t for the fact you’re currently fucking my favorite playmate into the mattress.  Or you were… I’m not sure what you’re doing now.”

From the few glimpses he’d had of arrancar fornicating, he’d never seen a position like this.  The submissive was always on the bottom, from what he’d seen.  This was just bizarre.

“Oh, tha’,” the white hollow said offhandedly, “he likes t’ be on top sometimes.  Makes ‘im feel tall.”

The talkative hollow received another bite on his shoulder for the snarky comment.  Grimmjow duly noted the rather starkly contrasting mark faded quickly.  Instant regeneration.

“So, uh…” Grimmjow cleared his throat awkwardly with a slight cough into his hand, averting his eyes from the— frankly hot, if he was honest— sight before him, “ya got a name… hollow?”

“Name’s Shiro, an’— oh, ya lil shit,” the hollow muttered as Kurosaki chuckled and Shiro grabbed his hips firmly and ground up against him with force after the redhead had decided to attack his neck with obnoxiously loud sucking sounds.

Grimmjow shifted his stance, trying to discreetly hide his growing ‘little problem’ as his eyes were unconsciously drawn to the duo on the bed.

“Um… should I… go?” Grimmjow asked, his voice strained. “I can f-fight berry boy later… and, uh, let you guys… do your thing…?”

Shiro glanced at him sideways, allowing Kurosaki to take control of the pace once more, “Oh no, stay.  I insist.”

Grimmjow’s eyes were drawn toward Kurosaki, who was dragging open-mouthed kisses down the column of the hollow’s throat, hips rolling smoothly against the hollow’s own.  Damn, they had some fucking endurance.

They’d been banging like this the whole time so effortlessly, like it was nothing.

Grimmjow couldn’t help but wonder how deep inside berry Shiro was right now.  He found himself wanting to get in on that.  Maybe between them.  He then wondered what it was like to take Kurosaki like that.  Or maybe for the hollow to penetrate him and fuck him like he was doing to Kurosaki right now.

The Sexta licked his lips, swallowing thickly, “I… uh… don’t wanna intrude.”

“Nah, yer not intrudin’.  Come join us,” Shiro replied, not at all winded by Kurosaki’s ministrations as of yet, “I see the way yer lookin’ at us so desperately.  If ya wanna join, all ya gotta do is get yer sexy ass over here.”

“I-I don’t think K-Kurosaki would like that very much,” Grimmjow stuttered uncertainly.

Dammit, why was he so flustered?!  These two had him so hot and bothered.  It was such a drastic change to the absolute lack of attraction he was used to.

“Nonsense.  King—” Grimmjow didn’t miss the aroused growl Kurosaki gave as Shiro called him this, “would’ja mind if Grimmy here joined us?”

To the arrancar’s shock, Kurosaki turned smoldering honey brown eyes directly on him, “Get your ass over here already, before I— _mmm—_ change my mind— _Shiro-ohh, harder!_ ”

Grimmjow, completely dumbstruck, unconsciously obeyed before he could fully register the order.

As he crawled onto the bed warily, Shiro smirked at him, “Hey there, sexy.  Knew ya’d come ‘round.”

“Well, you did offer,” Grimmjow said tersely, “I’m not about to turn down an offer as good as this.”

Shiro thrust up into Ichigo as the redhead ground down against him, “Mmm… good choice, blueberry— but a lil warnin’ fer ya.”

Grimmjow quirked a brow when he noticed the hollow’s voice grew unexpectedly serious, “Yeah?”

The hollow’s tone became frigid and foreboding, “Ya better enjoy this… but if ya _ever_ so much as _try_ t’ hurt my King, I may be ‘is inner hollow, but ya can run… ya can hide, even, but I’ll track ya t’ the ends of the earth.  I’ll find ya, an’ devour ya piece by piece.  Understand?”

Grimmjow gulped nervously.

_What the hell have I gotten myself into?  He’s completely serious, and something tells me he can easily kill me if he wanted to.  If I hurt carrot-top now, I’m a fuckin’ dead man walking.  This guy's nuts!_

“G—… got it,” Grimmjow said aloud.

Shiro’s voice was back to its light, cheery tone, “Okay, goodie!  Now then, what’cha wanna try first?  Ichi an’ me are all for experimentin’.”

Well, granted there was a very real chance he could be tracked down, probably get ripped limb from limb and eaten alive, at least he wouldn’t die a virgin.  And he’d get the best— and only— sex of his life.

Grimmjow recalled his earlier musings on wanting to be in between the two.

“Can I… be in the middle?” the arrancar asked.

Shiro cocked his head to the side in contemplation, “Mm, sure.  We can do that.  Ever been fucked ‘fore, blueberry?”

“Er, no…”

Shiro’s eyes sharpened, landing on Grimmjow again.  Grimmjow shifted uncomfortably.  He felt like a nice cut of steak with the way he was being accessed.

The pale hollow licked his lips, adding to the illusion, “‘S tha’ so?  A virgin, ah?” he grinned, looking back to his lover.  “Hear tha’, King?  We’re gonna be Grimmy’s first time.  Ain’t that nice?”

“Mm.”

“D-don’t make fun of me,” Grimmjow muttered, embarrassed.

“Not pickin’ fun.  Jus’ statin’ a fact,” Shiro said, “this’ll be fun.  We can teach ya all sorts o’ neat tricks.  So ya haven’t even, y’know…?”

“No, I don’t know,” Grimmjow ground out.

Shiro rolled his eyes, “Masturbated.”

Grimmjow blanched, “Oh, uh… no.”

Shiro groaned, “Oh, for the love of— Ichi, up,” he ordered, lifting Kurosaki by the hips up off him.

The redhead whined, and— oh god— pouted.  Wow. Grimmjow didn’t know such an expression was in berry’s repertoire. It was… really hot.

“Oh, hush,” Shiro told Kurosaki, flicking his forehead with a slim, black-nailed finger, “ya get the living daylights fucked outta ya here in a minute. Gotta get Grimmy prepped first.”

Ichigo stared toward Grimmjow, expression contemplative— then… “Mm’kay.”

While Shiro got something from the bedside table, Kurosaki was crawling toward Grimmjow.  The arrancar startled, trying to crawl back as the shinigami confused him.  He ended up falling on his back.

“What are you doin— _nn…_!”  Grimmjow hissed as Kurosaki tugged down his hakama and grabbed his erection.

The redhead gave him a few lazy pumps, but didn’t stop there.  Kurosaki leaned down and gave a long lick up the length of it.  Grimmjow muffled a moan behind his fist.

Then he wrapped those plump lips around his hard cock and Grimmjow was reeling for air.  The redhead dug his tongue in his slit before circling around the head.  

He bobbed his head, up and down over just the tip at first.

But with every rise and sink, he gradually took Grimmjow deeper and deeper into his mouth.

The arrancar shuddered, panting as quietly as he could manage.

All his attempts to remain silent flew completely out the window when Kurosaki took him so deep he felt the tip hit the back of his throat, squeezing around him, and—

“Fu— _haa…_ !” he shouted.  “K-Kuros— _ahh…_!”

He couldn’t form a coherent sentence even if he wanted to.  He felt himself getting closer and closer.  To what, he wasn’t quite sure.  But he was getting closer to whatever it was.

The heat and pleasure curled in his belly, and— _god_ — he didn’t want it to stop.

Closer and closer, he was about to— to—

_—Slap!_

“Get off ‘im.”

Ichigo rose off Grimmjow with a wet pop, looking to the pale look alike, “But _Shiro_.”

“Don’t ya ‘but Shiro’ me.  It ain’t workin’.  Do somethin’ else, yer in the way.”

Ichigo— Kurosaki, Grimmjow reminded himself… had he started calling him Ichigo in his mind?  Dammit.  Whatever.

 _Ichigo_ slid off Grimmjow and crawled up along his side.  He gave Grimmjow a long lick up the side of his neck that had the Sexta shivering.  He leaned more fully over Grimmjow, placing his hands on either side of his head and sucked at a spot in the hollow of his throat, which was… surprisingly sensitive.

There came a somewhat painful, but mostly just uncomfortable sensation as something entered him.  Grimmjow managed to look down the length of his body where he saw a head of white hair.  He was confused, but decided to let it happen.  He figured it was supposed to get better later.

And then it was _Shiro_ who was sucking him off.

Grimmjow gave a sharp inhale as he was abruptly engulfed to the base in one smooth, practiced motion.

“Shiro’s better at it than me,” Ichigo informed him in a whisper, “no gag reflex.  You’re in for a treat.”

Grimmjow moaned and swore as that sinuous mouth of the inner hollow’s rose and fell on him.  Meanwhile, his neck was still being assaulted with feather-light kisses, random nips, and the occasional suckling.

These two certainly knew how to send a guy to cloud nine.  He couldn’t even think.  He only barely noticed the second digit pushed into him.  Or the third, even.

His entire body was racked with shivers, his breaths coming in quick, heavy gasps and sighs.

Next thing he knew, he was cumming down Shiro’s throat.  The hollow slipped his fingers out, pulling off Grimmjow.

He crawled up the arrancar’s body and gave him a kiss full on the lips and Grimmjow got a good taste of himself.  He wasn’t sure he minded, since he found himself kissing right back with fervor.

Shiro sat back, “Mm… that was good.  Ichi, ya ready t’ get fucked?”

Ichigo stuck his tongue out petulantly, “I’ve _been_ ready.”

“Right then,” Shiro grinned, “here’s how we’re gonna do this.  Ichi, ya lay down— yeah, jus’ like that.  An’ Grimmy…” he said as he slicked up the arrancar from behind, then shoved him down on top of Ichigo, “get t’ it!”

Grimmjow didn’t have time to react as Ichigo had hooked a leg around his waist and pulled him in.  He slammed in right to the hilt.

Ichigo threw his head back, “ _Ah!  Mm— mmm… yesss_ …!”

Grimmjow blinked owlishly— put off— but quickly regained himself and tried to thrust in and out a few times to see what would happen.

Ichigo’s hips undulated against him, “More… _mm—_ more!”

Even inexperienced as he was, it seemed easy to give Ichigo what he wanted.  He thrust in and out, and for every thrust, Ichigo met him, grinding against him and making the pleasure rise higher—

— and then Shiro was laying against his back, pushing his way in.  Grimmjow winced and panted, body stilling for a moment.

Ichigo growled, “No stopping,” he complained, repositioning his legs to pull in Shiro as well.  He ground up against Grimmjow again, and the blue-haired arrancar tried to just focus on that.

Shiro was still for a while, then with a sudden lurch, he was in motion.  Grimmjow’s eyes widened when it actually felt good this time.

It was… damn.  He could never have imagined it in his wildest dreams.  To be buried inside Ichigo like this _and_ to be filled by Shiro _at the same time._  It was better than he’d thought it would be when he was only watching them and fantasizing about it inside his head.

As Shiro slammed into him, he was pushed deeper inside Ichigo, who gave a heady moan.  He grit his teeth, getting lost in the pleasure.

He didn’t even have to move— Shiro was doing all the work for them, and— _fuck!_ — it was good.  Grimmjow panted wildly, in bliss as he was simultaneously fucking Ichigo’s sweet ass and being fucked by Shiro.

Over and over, he thought to himself how the possibility of Shiro eating him later would be worth it.  Hell, he probably would never hurt Ichigo again, if it meant he could enjoy this again.

There were stars in his eyes as he was taken from both the front and back.

As far as first times went, this was— fucking amazing.

Before long, Grimmjow was moaning and panting just as loudly as Ichigo.  At the lewd sounds they were both making, Shiro growled and thrust harder into them.  He pressed himself down flat against them, sandwiching Grimmjow between himself and Ichigo.

Grimmjow was helpless to the onslaught as Shiro slammed into him from behind and Ichigo repeatedly ground against him with fluid rolling of his hips below.

He felt the heat of both their sweat slicked bodies seeping into him as skin slipped against skin, and the slaps of Shiro’s body against his own grew louder.

Then, with a sharp cry, Ichigo was the first to go as he tightened impossibly tight around Grimmjow when he came, and Grimmjow was done for.  He panted and moaned, burying his face in Ichigo’s shoulder as he was overwhelmed.  He knew if he hadn’t already been flattened against Ichigo, he’d have collapsed now.

He trembled from the simultaneous sensations of his first orgasm, Ichigo still clenched tightly around him, and the continued thrusts into him by Shiro.  Ichigo was a completely flushed mess below, panting rapidly with his head thrown to the side as he felt Shiro’s movements through Grimmjow.

Every time Shiro slammed into Grimmjow, he was still being pushed into Ichigo, and Ichigo clenched and unclenched around him with each thrust.  He was still feeling so much pleasure it was practically painful.

Ichigo’s legs had long since fallen limp, spread out on the bed.

With a few more deep, pounding thrusts into Grimmjow, Shiro gave one last thrust and with a low growl, he too came.

The pale hollow lay against Grimmjow, nuzzling his shoulder.  It felt nice, actually—

— _until he_ **_bit_ ** _him, that was_.

Grimmjow felt a fleeting shock of terror shoot through him, “Ow!  What was that for?!”

Shiro hummed, lapping up the blood, but didn’t bite him again— so he wasn’t about to eat him then— the hollow nuzzled his shoulder again, “I’ve decided.  Yer mine now.”

Ichigo scowled, rubbing the side of his face against the arrancar’s, “No fair, he’s mine too, Shiro.”

“Mm… so he is,” Shiro conceded, “ya gonna bite ‘im too?”

Ichigo looked like he was truly considering the thought.

Grimmjow stiffened, “Oh no.   _No_ more biting.  One’s enough, dammit!”

He felt much safer to pass around casual banter now that they (Shiro specifically) had established they weren’t necessarily going to use him up and devour him when he was too weakened from orgasm to move.

“‘Kay, well, I think Ichi and I are due for a shower,” Shiro said, already recovered enough to slide out of Grimmjow and get up from the bed.

Grimmjow groaned as he felt something wet ooze down his thigh, “Ugh, shower sounds nice, thanks.”

Ichigo wiggled his hips with a frown, “Up, unless we’re going for round two.”

Shiro snickered from where he bent over to retrieve his bleach white shihakusho.  Grimmjow was getting the impression it was an inside joke.

“Better listen t’ th' minx, Grimmy,” Shiro advised helpfully, “he’s not kiddin’ ‘bout th' round two.”

Grimmjow’s face paled marginally, “No!  Nope, I’m good, no more!” he said quickly, climbing off the redhead in an instant.  Ichigo seemed a little disappointed by this.

“Ichi, shower.  Now.  Up an’ at ‘em,” Shiro ordered as he threw a pair of jeans at him from the floor, “ya can get yer ‘round two’ later.”

Ichigo licked his lips, pulling on the pants, “Shower sex?”

Shiro raised a brow with a pause, “... We’ll see.”


	4. An Unwelcome Visitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BEFORE YOU DECIDE TO READ THIS: THIS CHAPTER HAS NO SMUT!  
> If you came for the unadulterated porn, I suppose you could just skip this chapter. If you like vague plot with your porn and loads of ridiculous angst (with dashes of stupid humor), you could read it.
> 
> Either or. This is essentially just the confrontation between Orihime and Shiro and Ichigo. Also Isshin is there. Sort of. A little. I like Isshin, he's fun.
> 
> Anyway, without further ado!

With how well things had been going between Ichigo and Shiro, something was bound to go sour.

That sourness came in the form of a visitor after school let out on Monday.  Ichigo had just retreated to his bedroom where he could make out with his twin lover in peace (heavy touching may or may not have been involved) when—

“Son!  Visitor for you!”

Ichigo groaned, ending his kiss with Shiro and sliding off him to get off the bed.

“Dammit,” he muttered, “was just getting hard too,” he continued muttering profanities under his breath as he readjusted and zipped up his pants.

Shiro tossed Ichigo’s shirt at him, “Ya want me t’ go back t’ yer inner world, Ichi?”

Ichigo frowned, pulling the shirt on, “No.  Stay.  They can’t see you anyway.”

‘They’ being his family, and most likely the visitor.  The good thing about having a spirit lover was that there wasn’t much effort in hiding them from people.  

Not that Ichigo was ashamed of his sexual relationship with his inner hollow.  Should anyone question it, he’d defend Shiro.

The hollow _had_ after all helped him in a really dark time.  Who knew what he might have done to himself or let be done to himself, had Shiro not come out to make an intervention when he did.

Shiro was pensive, “... Okay.”

That sorted out, they proceeded down the stairs.  Ichigo in front, and Shiro just behind him.

When Ichigo saw who was in the doorway, he wished he’d just told his father he wasn’t available.  Or better yet, that he’d jumped out of his body and run off.  Pretend he’d been sleeping and therefore hadn’t heard.

But he hadn’t done any of that, and now it was too late to have second thoughts.

Shiro bristled behind Ichigo with a growl that sounded closer to feral than not.  Ichigo noticed his father’s eyes roam over him and linger over his shoulder for a suspicious, but very brief moment.

He couldn’t see Shiro— could he…?

“What’s _she_ doin’ here?”  Shiro hissed venomously.  “I’m gonna eat ‘er, King.”

Ichigo wasn't imagining it.  His father had stiffened, as if he’d heard the inner hollow’s words.

The redhead’s eyes slid toward his inner hollow, and he sighed, “You’ll do no such thing, Shiro.”

Shiro looked like he wanted to argue, but allowed his shoulders to slump in defeat, “Fine.  I’m still eatin’ ‘er if she hurts ya ‘gain though, King.  I don’t like ‘er.”

Ichigo rolled his eyes, “I know you don’t.”

The substitute shinigami then turned his attention to his crazy ass father… who was shouting some spiel about how either his son had finally gone insane and was talking to the voices in his head, or that he was yet again rubbing it in his face he could see ghosts.

“Cut the crap, dad,” Ichigo snapped, jabbing a thumb back at the bleached look alike, “you can see him, can’t you?”

“Why, whatever do you mean, my darling so—”

“Can’t you?” Ichigo ground out.

Isshin’s expression sobered.  It nearly scared the redhead to see the normally exuberant fool of a father this unnaturally serious.  Actually, it nearly scared all present persons.

Isshin rubbed a hand back through his short hair with a tired sigh, “I can.  I’d been hoping you wouldn’t find out about this for a while longer.”

“C-Can someone tell me what’s going on here?” Orihime asked fearfully.  “Who’s that, and why does he look so much like you?  I don’t understand.”

The three Kurosakis (well, technically Shiro was a Kurosaki, since he was part of Ichigo) rounded on her.  Isshin held a look of what closely resembled pity.  Ichigo looked mildly irritated, or perhaps uncomfortable.  Shiro looked downright murderous.

“I really wish you hadn’t come here, Inoue,” Ichigo said, nothing but his emotional fatigue coming through in his tone, “Inoue, Dad… meet my inner hollow,” he said, gesturing broadly toward his pale twin.

“Name’s Shiro.  Please t’ meet’cha,” the hollow said lightly, then leered at the woman in the doorway, “one o’ ya, anyway…”

Orihime cringed away.

Ichigo frowned back at Shiro, but there was no heat in his stare, “Shiro… play nice.  Please.”

“Only ‘cause ya asked, Ichi,” he grumbled, then looked back at Orihime and cheerfully added, “yer walkin’ on thin ice, sweetheart.”

“I-Ichigo, can I talk to you?” she begged, giving the hollow a tentative sideways glance.  “Alone, maybe?”

“I’d prefer if Shiro stayed,” Ichigo replied tersely, “he’d hear anyway.”

Isshin held up his hands in a surrendering pose, “Alright, alright.  I’ll leave you kids to it.”

The father then scuttled off.  Probably to harass his daughters with unwanted affection.  Orihime stared after the strange father as he made his exit.  Ichigo could feel his patience quickly nearing its end.

“Inoue.”

She looked toward Ichigo with a hopeful gleam in her eyes, “Ichigo.”

Ichigo scowled, “I mean it, Inoue.  Why are you here?”

“I-I… wanted to apologize…”

Ichigo held Shiro back, placing the back of his hand on the hollow’s chest with a slow, gentle motion as the hollow made to step forward with a feral growl.  Ichigo’s act to ‘restrain’ him was so weak that if Shiro truly didn’t want to listen to Ichigo, the redhead wouldn’t be able to hold him back for even a second.

No, most certainly not.  What held Shiro back was purely trust alone.

Orihime seemed to understand this, because she was cowering, practically trying to become one with the door frame.

Ichigo scratched the back of his head, yawning, “You may as well come inside already.  Doesn’t seem like whatever you’ve gotta say is really short.”

Orihime gave a small nod and followed him into the living room.  Ichigo didn’t offer refreshments.  She didn’t ask.

As they both sat in tense silence, yellow on black eyes roamed over the two before Shiro began wandering off toward the kitchen, tossing a casual, “‘m raiding yer fridge, King,” over his shoulder.

“Go ahead,” Ichigo replied without thought, lost in his own mind.

“Ichigo, I—”

Ichigo interrupted her, “No.  No excuses.  I already know what you did.  I want to know _why_ , Inoue.  That’s why you came here, _isn’t it?!”_

The girl cringed away with a wince when he lost his cool and nearly shouted that last sentence.  Ichigo didn’t feel particularly sorry about it though.  Fancy that.

Just then, Shiro re-entered the room, stuffing his face with cold pizza from the fridge, “Damn, I love fridge pizza— oh, am I interruptin’ somethin’?”

“Not really,” Ichigo muttered, “that’s Karin’s pizza by the way.  I’m not gonna be your whipping boy when she goes on her warpath over it,” then with idle curiosity he asked, “wait, you can eat food?”

Shiro shrugged as he finished off the slice, consequently talking with his mouth full, “Sure, I can.  I mean, I don’t get any sustenance from it or anythin’, but the flavor’s nice.  It’s kinda like… why humans eat junk food, I guess…?”

Ichigo raised his brows, a little impressed, “Neat.  Maybe don’t eat all Karin’s pizza if you don’t really need it though.”

“Aw, that’s mean, King.”

“Hush.  If you’re a good boy, maybe I’ll buy something for you that you can have all to yourself,” he teased.

Shiro smirked in a lewd, mischievous expression, “I’d rather share with ya.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Orihime looked substantially uncomfortable by their interactions.

“Um, Ichigo,” she said timidly.

She seemed scared to interrupt their banter.  Most likely rightfully so, since Shiro looked about ready to maul her on the spot.  Probably a good thing he was distracted by his second slice of— … what was it he called it, ‘fridge pizza’?  

Karin was going to kill Ichigo.  Unless… he could pin it on his dad.  Yeah, she’d believe that.

“Ready to tell me what the hell you were thinking?” Ichigo asked quite calmly, all things considered.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you…”

“Then _tell_ me!” Ichigo demanded.  “Quit stalling, dammit!  Tell me _why?!_ ”

“I— I really do care about you, I-Ichigo— honest!  I do!  It’s just, I thought I loved you, but I was wrong—”

“Wrong?!  What do you mean, wrong?!”

“I just… I… you saved my life, Ichigo,” she said weakly, “I thought I loved you because of that, but…”

“Hero worship, innit?” Shiro sneered.

Ichigo smacked his shoulder lightly, “We’re playing nice today, Shiro.  Behave.”

“... ‘kay…”

“I-I guess that’s what it was,” Orihime said, causing their attention to draw to her again, “I thought it was love, but it was just… hero worship.  I still care about you, Ichigo.  Even now.”

“So… you never loved me,” Ichigo looked away dejectedly.  He’d started moving on with Shiro, but damned if it didn’t still hurt like a bitch, “is that why you cheated on me with Ishida?”

She stared down at her lap sadly, “... I didn’t mean to…”

“Answer the fuckin’ question!”

“Shiro,” Ichigo’s voice was a whisper.

“I just— well— I _wasn’t happy_ ,” Orihime said in just as quiet a whisper, “you have to understand, Ichigo.”

“And _my_ happiness doesn’t matter?”

There was no yelling.  No bite in his words.  Just tired resignation.  He didn’t even have the energy to be mad anymore.

“That’s not what I’m—”

“It doesn’t matter what’cha _meant_ , bitch,” Shiro snapped, “that’s the way it came out, an’ ya can’t sit here an’ tell us ya ever thought ‘bout King when ya were out fuckin' Quincy boy behind ‘is back!”

Ichigo cringed at the other’s words, leaning heavily against Shiro, who was stationed beside the sofa armrest.  Shiro mindlessly carded his fingers through orange hair.

Orihime’s eyes widened, understanding dawning within them, “A-are you two t—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Shiro didn’t let her finish, “it’s none ya business, dammit.  Ya hurt ‘im.  Ya left ‘im.  Ya don’t getta be in ‘is life anymore.  What he chooses t’ do now that he left ya is none o’ yer concern.  If that’s all ya gotta say fer yerself, leave.”

Orihime nodded sharply and stood.  She lingered at the edge of the living room, “Ichigo…”

The substitute shinigami didn’t look up from the floor, “No, I’m not still mad at you.  Just do what you want, but… please.  Just leave.  I can’t look at you anymore.”

She stared after him with a somber, sorrowful expression, but nonetheless left as he’d requested.

“About damn time,” Shiro hissed, glaring at the door as it closed with a muted click.

“Please, Shiro, drop it,” Ichigo murmured.

Shiro just looked at him contemplatively for several seconds.  He sighed and flopped down beside the redhead.

Looping an arm around Ichigo, he hugged the other to his side, “‘S gonna be okay, King.  I promise ya, jus’ wait an’ see.”

Ichigo chuckled humorlessly, “You really believe that, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Shiro replied without pause, “I do.  Time’s the best medicine fer emotional wounds.”

“What the hell have I been letting you read?” Ichigo asked, quirking a small smile.

“Some dumbass bloggin’ shit,” Shiro shrugged, “seemed the right thing t’ say at a time like this.  Did I do good?”

Ichigo full out laughed now, “Sure, why the hell not.  You big dork.”

“B _uuut_ … ya love me,” the hollow smirked.

“Mmm… true,” Ichigo leaned over and kissed Shiro nice and slow.

Shiro hummed into the kiss, hands wandering dangerously low on the redhead’s person, until—

A light cough.

“Uh.  Am I interrupting something?”

They jerked apart lightning fast from each other, one on one side of the sofa and the other clear across at the opposite end.

There stood Isshin.  Watching them.  He looked… curious…

“D-Dad, I-I can explain—”

“Don’t bother,” Isshin interjected, and Ichigo stiffened at his words, but Isshin oddly enough turned away as he spoke, “it’s none of my business what my son is doing, or who he chooses to date.  Right?” he gave the pair a brief, knowing wink over his shoulder.

Ichigo was shocked, “... Dad…”

Wow.  HIs dad was almost… cool—

“My darling son, you’d better use protection~!” the man cried as he flung himself at his eldest child.

… And the feeling was gone.  Typical.

Shiro yanked Ichigo into his lap and planted a firm kick at the center of the father’s chest, “Not t’day, ol’ man!  Ichi’s mine, ya hear?!   _No_ touchy.”

Isshin landed in a heap at the other end of the room.  He didn’t stay there for long, though.  In the next instant, he was up and crying with huge crocodile tears (unscathed) as if he didn’t just get kicked across the room into a literal wall by what was most likely currently the strongest hollow in existence.

“How cruel, my other beloved son!  Aren’t we family?!  Come here and give daddy a kiss!”

Ichigo and Shiro simultaneously kicked the bastard away this time.

“Come on, Shiro, we’re going back upstairs,” Ichigo said with a scowl.

Shiro nodded and followed him.

As they’d just gotten halfway up the staircase, Isshin called up to them in that serious voice again.

“Ichigo.”

He glanced back at his father warily.

“I sensed a strong hollow in the house while I was on that vacation with your sisters.  You wouldn’t happen to know about that, would you?”

“I… uh— it was— nothing,” Ichigo nervously answered his father, unable to look him in the eye as he tried desperately to dodge the topic.

He could have sworn his father’s eyes narrowed very, _very_ slightly.  He must have imagined it, surely.

“I see… well, feel free to confide in me about it when you’re ready.  I don’t intend to pry.”

Ichigo nodded and turned to go again.

“Oh, and Ichigo?”

He flinched and looked back at his father.  All this random seriousness was frying the substitute shinigami’s already frayed nerves.

“There are… shinigami not so accepting as me.  Be careful who you allow to see you with your lovers.”

Ichigo froze marginally at this.  With a stiff nod, he turned to take his leave.

Only after the door was closed did Ichigo fall back against the wall and slide to the floor.  Shiro watched him, his hand still on the doorknob, brow furrowed in concern.

“Ichi?”

The redhead held his head in his hands, staring down at the floor, “Shit.  He knows—

“— _He knows everything._ ”


	5. A Little TLC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No smut this one. Just ridiculous fluff. More smut later.
> 
> I don't really have an excuse for how late this is. Feel free to throw me in a river somewhere.

Shiro didn’t stand around dumbly watching Ichigo fret for long.  In one smooth motion, as if rehearsed beforehand, he had his panicking other half swathed in his kosode and in his arms.

“W-What are you doing?!” the redhead asked as he noticed where he now was.

“Holdin’ ya, obviously,” the hollow replied with a laugh, “ya, my poppet, need a lil bit o’ tender love an’ care.”

“What—?”

Then Ichigo was being tossed onto the bed, Shiro not far behind him.

“N-No sex,” Ichigo objected nervously, “I’m not in the mood anymore.”

“Didn’t plan on it,” Shiro flopped on top of the other, slowly wrapping his arms around him and rolling over so the berry was on top, “I can do sexy an’ dirty, sure, but I can also do sweet an’ gentle...  No sex,” he promised.

Ichigo sighed and relaxed into the hollow’s embrace.  It was nice in his opinion to just share each other’s company and body heat like this.  It was a pleasant change of pace.

“I wish we could have more times like this,” Ichigo murmured, “... feels so safe…”

Shiro placed gentle kisses in a line up the column of Ichigo’s throat before nuzzling beneath his chin and settling, “Ya deserve t’ feel safe, King.  Ya been protectin’ everyone else so long.  Should let someone else do the worryin’ fer once.  

“Let me protect ya an’ look after ya.  I won’t let anythin’ happen t’ ya.  Take some time off.  Relax fer a while.  A few days. A week, even.”

“Okay,” he agreed without thinking— his eyes widened with a gasp, “wait, but my family— a-and my friends!  And school, hollows—!”

“Don’t worry.  No frettin’, I got it,” Shiro shushed him with a finger to his lips.  Ichigo had the presence of mind to look indignant, only causing the inner hollow to chuckle, “I won’t let anythin’ bad happen.  Ya can trust me. Rest in yer inner world.  I can do school fer ya, an’ kill hollows o’ course.”

“They’ll know it’s not me though,” Ichigo protested, albeit much more weakly.

Shiro placed a soft kiss on his lips, “I told ya, I got this.  I’m a part o’ ya.  I can pretend t’ be ya fer ‘while.  I can act like ya, scowl like ya, even hide my hollow reiatsu.  Or dampen it at least.  Everyone’ll be none the wiser.  Ya always have a sorta hollow feel jus’ a lil anyway, so it’ll be jus’ the same.”

“But your accent…”

The hollow adopted a look of intense concentration, eventually speaking, “Oh, that.  I can talk like you too.  Better?”

Ichigo shuddered, “That was creepy.  Never talk like that to me again.  Ever.”

With a chuckle, Shiro rubbed the tip of his nose to Ichigo’s, “D’ya think I can handle things fer ya now?  I promise I’ll be good.  No attackin’ people, no needless fightin’.  I’ll play nice wit’ all th' other kids on the playground,” with a frown and a pause, he reluctantly added, “... won’t even hurt Orihime.  Even though she’s askin’ fer it.”

Ichigo rolled his eyes, “I don’t even want to think about her.”

Shiro’s eyes softened, “‘m sorry.  Let’s not talk ‘bout her then.  Matter o’ fact, no more talkin’.”

Ichigo raised a brow, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The hollow then pinned Ichigo with his back to the bed, crouching over his lover.  He nuzzled his face under the other’s chin, and when snow white hair tickled Ichigo, he heard the redhead giggle— honestly giggle.

He smirked and began slipping Ichigo’s shirt up.

Panic shot through Ichigo and he grabbed the hollow’s wrist, “No sex, you promised!”

“I know,” Shiro reassured him quietly, easily slipping his hand from Ichigo’s grip, “tha’ isn’t what ‘m doin’.  You’ll like this.  I’ma make ya feel good, without sex.”

“... Okay,” Ichigo said eventually, “I’ll give it a try then.”

Shiro knew this was a proverbial trust fall, and he did not intend to break that trust.

He’d show his lover he could be kind and caring.  From this point onward, he made a conscious effort to tell Ichigo what he was doing, and ask permission.  He felt obligated to ensure his King’s safety.  

This wasn’t about pleasuring himself or both of them.  It was about making Ichigo feel safe, loved, and secure.

He wanted to show him that not everyone lied to him, or betrayed him, or had ulterior motives.

“I’m gonna take off yer shirt now, Ichi,” he told the other, purposely using this term of endearment as averse to the nickname ‘King’, which elicited sexual feelings in Ichigo.

Ichigo nodded his ascent, but still watched the pale twin warily.  The look in his eyes threatened to shatter his heart (the hollow surprisingly had one) into a million unmendable pieces.

Very slowly, he slipped Ichigo’s shirt off.  For now, he didn’t remove much more clothing than that.  No need to frighten Ichigo anymore than he already had.

Shiro caressed Ichigo’s sides first, slowly, softly. No sudden movements.

Ichigo relaxed marginally.

The hollow then just as softly dragged his nails down the same path, only enough to tickle the other.  Ichigo shivered, goosebumps rising at Shiro’s gentle ministrations.

“Oh,” he breathed out, hardly a whisper.  It was strange, to be given this sort of attention, this affection, but… he liked it.

Shiro then leaned down, lightly kissing a spot just a few inches beneath Ichigo’s navel.  He continued this, trailing kisses in a line up Ichigo’s belly, his chest, his throat.  

One just beneath his jaw… he slowed gradually.  Another on Ichigo’s chin… the tip of his nose… his forehead…

… his lips.

Ichigo closed his eyes, letting it happen.

As they parted, Ichigo whispered, “Shiro…”

“Yes, Ichi?”

There came no response, but Ichigo stared at him with a forlorn look of utter longing.  

He looked lost.

Shiro longed to wash it all away.  To keep his King from ever having reason to make such a painful expression ever again.

Shiro held his King’s face between pale hands, stroking his thumbs across the sensitive skin at the peak of his gorgeous high cheekbones.  He then stroked his hands along Ichigo’s hairline, up to the crown of his head, using his fingertips to comb soft orange hair back.

“Ya don’t even know how beautiful ya are…?” he asked in a low, soothing voice, pleasant on the shinigami-hollow hybrid’s ears.  “Do ya?”

Ichigo predictably shied away from the compliment, trying to hide his face behind one of the hollow’s hands.  His cheeks took on a faint reddish tint, “Mm… not beautiful… and we look the same… so...”

“That’s a lie.  An’ ‘sides, we may look mostly the same, but it’s only ya that’s got these beautiful colors,” Shiro said, repeating the action of stroking Ichigo’s hair idly as he spoke, “as I thought, ya can’t see it.  Maybe it’s ‘cause it’s ya.  Sometimes, people have a hard time seein’ the good things they already got.”

Ichigo tried to hide his face further behind Shiro’s hand, if at all possible.  Shiro chuckled, kissing the berry’s nose again.

“An’ yer cute.”

“Mm not cute… either,” Ichigo mumbled, now giving up his fruitless efforts of hiding behind Shiro’s hand in favor of just staring at a wall off to the side.

“Wanna know what I love ‘bout ya?” Shiro abruptly asked.

It threw Ichigo off guard.  “Huh?”

“I love these…” Shiro tapped Ichigo’s eyelid, kissing it, and doing the same to the other, “... an this,” a tap on Ichigo’s nose and another kiss, “... this,” a tap at the hollow Ichigo’s throat, another kiss that caused Ichigo to shiver this time.

Ichigo started to complain, “This is corny—”

Shiro put a finger to Ichigo’s lips, “Shh, ‘m not done yet,” he then kissed both the hollows of Ichigo’s shoulders in turn, “an’ these too, then these,” the insides of his forearms, wrists, then palms, “yer cute lil belly button,” he said as he kissed that too, “an’ the rest o’ ya too, but most of all, these,” he kissed Ichigo on the lips passionately.

As they parted, a hair’s breadth between their faces, Shiro placed his fingertips on Ichigo’s chest, directly over his swiftly beating heart, “Or maybe this.  It’s yer curse, but it’s also yer blessin’.  I always admired tha’ in ya, Ichi.  Yer capacity for love.  

“Ya never let anyone know, but ya always care.  Ya care so much it tears ya ‘part, so ya push people away t’ shield yerself from the pain.  I understand tha’.  Ya deserve the best, Ichi.”

Ichigo stared up at him with that same heartbreaking somber look from before.  Held his arms out to the side in a gesture that implied he needed a hug.

Shiro gave it to him without qualm or second thought, “Ya mean the world t’ me, Ichi.  The whole world.”

“I know… ‘m sorry,” the redhead mumbled into his chest.

“Ya’ve done nothin’ wrong, Ichi,” Shiro told him, “ya don’t need t’ ‘pologize t’ me.”

Ichigo silently nodded.  Shiro rolled back over, putting Ichigo on top again.

The redhead bit his bottom lip, leaned down.  Rested his head against the crook of the hollow’s neck with a sigh.

“... Thank you.”

Ichigo’s words nearly went unheard.

But Shiro caught them. His arms tightened around the other who seemed so small in his moment of vulnerability.

“Always.”


	6. Hollow Antics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait on this. I don't really have an excuse. This hasn't really been proofread, so just forewarning.

And so it was that Shiro took over Ichigo’s life for seven days.  It was pleasant— for Ichigo, at least.

The hollow was a little worse for wear and frayed at the edges toward the tail end of it all, but nonetheless felt it was worth the fatigue and aggravation to see that Ichigo was well-rested and feeling much better.  It was Monday again and Ichigo was ready to take on the world once more.

Although school was a drag.  Paying attention was a pain in his...

... neck.

So when Shiro tried to come out during class, it took all Ichigo’s willpower to tell him ‘no’.  As much as he’d have loved the company and distraction, Rukia and Renji were nearby, and there were others in sensing range within Karakura as well…

Not to mention that Hirako Shinji guy.  That asshole had come out of nowhere for no apparent reason recently and wouldn’t leave well enough alone.

Displeased, Shiro growled through their mental link.

_“Fine, I can’t come out there, then ya can come in here!”_

_I can’t!_ Ichigo thought at him.

_“Nonsense.”_

Just like that, Ichigo’s head thumped against the desk and his vision went temporarily black as he was yanked into his inner world, and subsequently into his inner hollow’s embrace.  Shiro hummed, nuzzling the back of Ichigo’s neck and inhaling his scent.

While Ichigo _really_ loved the attention, there was one tiny little problem…

“What about my body?”

“Oh, tha’,” Shiro said negligently, making Ichigo shiver when he licked a stripe up the side of his neck and pressed their hips together, “got it covered."

Ichigo bit back a moan, “C-Covered…?”

“Autopilot,” Shiro nipped at the nape of Ichigo’s neck, drawing yet another shiver from the berry.  He suckled the sensitive skin, and Ichigo squirmed.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Oh yeah, totally,” Shiro seemed entirely disinterested in the conversation and much more interested in ripping half Ichigo’s shihakusho off.  Particularly the top half as of current.  “So long as no one provokes it.”

“‘Provokes it’?” Ichigo asked suspiciously, now more than a little concerned for both his body and whatever was happening in the human world. “What exactly is in control of my body right now, Shiro?”

Teeth scraped tantalizingly against Ichigo’s shoulder, and he was biting back another moan that threatened to fall from his lips.  He felt something poking his ass, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t Tensa Zangetsu’s hilt.

“Yer instincts, technically.  Honestly, they’re pretty good.  All things considered.”

“My _what?!_ ”

“Relax.  It’s not as bad as it sounds, an’ I know it does sound bad.  It should be relatively tame, will operate well in academics— ‘bout as well as yer full potential an’ no better ‘n that— won’t purposely hurt anyone…” Shiro’s hands dove inside his hakama, “an’ pro’ly won’t kill anyone… Pro’ly.  I mean, ‘less someone attacks it with intent t’ kill, but methinks that’s an appropriate response t’ an attempt on yer life anyway.”

All these reassurances were dubious at best, and weren’t doing much in the way of calming him.

“Maybe I should go…”

“K _iiing_ ,” Shiro whined— whined!

Ichigo turned in the hollow’s grip with a growl and grabbed Shiro’s hips, grinding them against his own, “Fine!  But I’m topping this time.  Understood?”

Shiro licked his lips, eyeing Ichigo up and down, “Mm… jus’ what I was thinkin’.  With pleasure.  King.”

Then they were both on the unorthodox ‘floor’ in Ichigo’s inner world.  Not the most comfortable place, but it would do.  Shiro was on top of Ichigo at first, rutting against Ichigo.  He had a very stark blush (... blue?), and eyes hungry with lust.

Ichigo quickly had him on his back, biting the side of his neck— Shiro arched up with a gasp, managing to brush Ichigo’s arousal.  Ichigo pressed right back, muffling a moan into the hollow’s shoulder.

“King, I need ya… in me.   _Now_ ,” Shiro practically ordered.

Then it dawned on Ichigo, “What about pre—” a bottle of lube popped into existence beside them, “—peration… oh.”

Shiro observed it with idle curiosity, a single brow raised, “Neat trick.”

“Uh… yeah,” Ichigo mumbled, dumbfounded.  Certainly, he’d done it, since this was his mind.  But how?

“Wonder what else ya can make appear here?”

Ichigo grabbed the bottle, going back to his self-assigned task of riddling the hollow’s shoulders and neck with hickeys and bite marks.  To his surprise— and immense pleasure— when he leant back, the marks were still there.

“This is new,” Ichigo said, voicing his pleasure.

“Yeah?”  Shiro asked, not entirely sure what it was Ichigo was commenting on.

“The hickeys aren’t fading.  Is this just an inner world thing, or…?”

Shiro snickered, “Oh, tha’.  Ya like tha’, d’ya?  I can keep ‘em in th’ ‘real world’ too, if ya wan’ me to.”

“Really?”

This was news to Ichigo.

“Mhmm… Instant regeneration is more of an instinctive ‘back burner’ type ability, but if I concentrate, I can slow it down.  Don’t normally got a reason t’ do it s’all.”

Ichigo made no comment, thrusting his fingers into Shiro and nipping a vicious line from the column of the hollow’s throat down to just the side of his navel.  

When he licked a line from above Shiro’s cock up to his navel, the hollow unconsciously shuddered.  It was a weird sensation that oddly made him harder, and he had no idea why.

He’d note this for future reference, since they were essentially identical in pleasure points.  Oh, he would make Ichigo positively _squirm_ when he got the chance.

Ichigo briefly sucked the head of Shiro’s erection and then he was withdrawing his fingers.  Shiro wanted to whine at the loss, but didn’t.  The fingers hadn’t been enough to satisfy him anyway, and what he was about to get would be plenty bigger.

Shiro stared up at Ichigo as he lined up with the hollow’s entrance, and impatiently muttered, “Quit stallin’, asshole.  Gimme all ya got.”

Ichigo gained a mischievous glint in his eye that didn’t bode well.

He rubbed the head of his cock against Shiro’s entrance, but didn’t actually penetrate.  All he wanted was to be inside Shiro already, fucking him like there was no tomorrow, but that desire was slightly overshadowed by his other desire to tease Shiro until he couldn’t take it anymore.  

With how demanding the hollow was being, he was just asking for it.

Being inside was just a single thrust away, but with sheer force of concentrated will, he refrained somehow.

The hollow groaned, raising his hips insistently, “Fuck— _meee_ — King.”

Shiro certainly knew how to push his buttons and play him like a violin.  Another thread of his control snapped at the use of that needy tone combined with one of Ichigo’s favorite bedroom nicknames.

He nearly did do it, pressing harder against Shiro to the point the hollow could feel the very beginning of that stretch he wanted.

Shiro tried to press back, to force the redhead to enter him, but Ichigo pulled back only just enough for Shiro’s endeavor to be fruitless.

Shiro whined petulantly as he was able to feel Ichigo against him, mind-blowing sex just barely out of his reach.

“Beg,” Ichigo ordered, snickering softly.

Shiro’s eyes widened, “Hh… huh?”

The redhead tutted, “You heard me.  You want me inside you?  Beg.”

Shiro pretended to pout, “That’s jus’ cruel.  Foul play’s rude.”

Ichigo quirked a brow, “... Waiting.”

Though he’d feigned reluctance to beg, as Ichigo demanded, Shiro was in actuality quite shameless.  Nothing was beneath him when it came to getting what he wanted.

A blue tongue licked pale lips that parted to say, “Please, I beg ya, m’ King!  Please take me on th’ floor, I need yer big, hard co— _oh_ — _ha-ahhnn!”_

The ‘begging’ had done its job brilliantly.  Shiro wasn’t able to finish his last sentence coherently, cut off by Ichigo slamming completely inside in one go.

“Y— Yes!  Kin— _nnng_ — f-fuck me!!”

Every thrust had him moaning and arching into Ichigo’s lean, muscular chest.  He was becoming more and more incoherent.  He bucked his hips, lifting lithe, pale legs and arms to wrap around Ichigo.  Hands crossed one over the other and clawing at broad shoulders.

Ichigo growled, forging a ruthless pace to drive the other to dizzying senselessness, until the only sense Shiro knew was the intense pleasure being dealt to him.

Ichigo moaned into Shiro’s mouth as he kissed him.  Felt all the more euphoria as those lips were at the column of his throat and _sucked._  The hollow panted as Ichigo found another spot just above his right collarbone.  He clawed shallow rivets down Ichigo’s shoulder blades, tensing when he felt his climax nearing.

“King!  Gonna— _ah_ — cum!” he cried as he felt himself constrict around the other’s girth.

Ichigo groaned against Shiro’s skin, just like he liked to do when he came inside, and Shiro could tell that they near simultaneously came.  He clung to Ichigo, holding him tight to himself as the redhead braced himself on his forearms just enough not to lay fully on the hollow as he continued to ride out his orgasm, hips bucking at an erratic tempo that eventually slowed and tapered off.

The redhead collapsed and lay there, panting against the sweat-slicked skin at the crook of Shiro’s neck.

Shiro chuckled, rubbing a hand through equally sweaty hair, scraping his fingernails against his heated scalp in a way that had Ichigo leaning into his touch eagerly, “Wow.  Ya never cease t’ amaze.  Yer truly a gift t’ humanity.”

Ichigo snorted, “Sarcasm or compliment?”

“Both.”

“... That’s fair.”

“Pfft.”

“I’m exhausted now.  Don’t wanna go back to class.”

“I’m not coverin’ fer ya t’day.”

“Damn.  Was worth a shot.  My instincts can’t handle it for today?”

“Mm… well, best not t’ press yer luck.  I seem t’ recall ya worryin’ bout how they migh’ go on the fritz and kill and or devour someone.”

Ichigo’s brow furrowed, “Uhh… I never said I was worried they’d eat someone… Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“Oops, did I say tha’?  Never ya mind, it’s nothin’, nothin’ t’all,” Shiro said evasively, then slapped Ichigo’s ass and changed the subject before the other could hound him about his slip-up (luckily, Ichigo did drop it for now), “get t’ it, lover boy.  Time fer class.  Unless ya wan’ yer instincts t’ get a chance at runnin’ wild a lil longer?”

Ichigo growled and bit his neck.

“Ouch, what is it wit’ ya an’ bitin’?  I swear ya bite more than I do,” the hollow complained, rubbing at the now lightly bruised spot, “what’re ya, a vampire?”

“Sure.  Gimme your blood, I need sustenance,” Ichigo bit him again—

— in response to which, Shiro slapped his ass again, “Nope, nope.  Ain’t feedin’ no vampires.”

Ichigo pouted at him, “Not even sexy ones?”

“Mm’kay, can’t deny th’ sexy part,” Shiro said, pretending to consider it, “‘kay, maybe a lil bitin’.  Only a lil though.”

And of course his King would expect Shiro to show off all those love bites and hickeys he’d so beautifully mottled alabaster skin with like artwork on a canvas, for a little while at least.  The hollow would humor him.  He got off on it himself, even if he didn’t care to admit it out loud.

Besides, he’d pay the redhead back plenty very soon.

Needless to say, the rest of Ichigo’s school day was an absolute nightmare.  At least he got good sex though.


	7. Return of the Blueberry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I tried to edit and spellcheck, but I got 4 pages in and fell asleep. Sorry. I'll try again later.
> 
> Have some really weird... uh... whatever this is. The next chapter's gonna be hella kinky, just saying.

Ichigo had honestly been wondering where Grimmjow had disappeared off to for the past two weeks or so.  He’d begun to get worried the man had been intimidated by his and Shiro’s advances (a comical concept in theory, considering his notorious reputation for being fearless and bullheaded).

Shiro, in contrast, couldn’t care less.  Then again, Shiro didn’t care about much else than Ichigo… and food… for some reason.  He’d been doing a lot of eating ever since he’d established he could not only interact with the real world, but eat things from it as well.

Ichigo was just keeping his fingers crossed that Shiro wouldn’t get tired of eating some _things_ and decide to starting eating some _ones_.  At least not humans or wholes.  Ichigo didn’t feel like dealing with the flak he’d get for it when someone found out that for one, he wasn’t properly doing his job of keeping the hollow population under control, and two, that the rampaging hollow in question was in fact his own.

Regardless, the tail end of Ichigo’s first week brought an unpleasant surprise in the form of a thoroughly beaten up hollow entering his home.  None other than Grimmjow himself.  The redhead nearly screamed when the Espada came in through his window with burns and lacerations from head to toe.

“Oii… Kurosaki,” the blue-haired man said in way of greeting, “long time no see,” and promptly collapsed to the floor, unconscious.

It took longer than it should have for Ichigo to realize he was just unconscious and not dead.

For a moment, he just stood there staring, stunned.  How could anyone hurt him like this?  What could have possibly created these wounds?

He shook himself.  More important things to think about.  Grimmjow needed immediate medical care… care which Ichigo wasn’t sure he could offer.

He chewed his lip nervously  Grimmjow was a _hollow_.  Not just any hollow, but an Arrancar (a great threat to Seireitei and also mankind itself in general), _and_ an Espada (one of Aizen’s elite ten).

Not many people would be keen on providing aid to such a powerful and dubiously trustworthy man.  In fact, Ichigo was quite sure he was the only one who cared.  

Not to mention that even if someone was willing to treat him, there was no guarantee they could even if they wanted to.  Again, Grimmjow was a hollow.  Ichigo didn’t know if his anatomy was even the same as a human’s or a whole’s.  There was a chance that nothing could be done for him.

“What’cha thinkin’ ‘bout, partner?”

Ichigo must have jumped a foot in the air.  He turned toward his inner hollow, “Sh-Shiro!”

“That’s m’ name, don’t wear it out,” he grinned.

Ichigo scowled, “Not in the mood right now.  In case you hadn’t noticed, Grimm’s bleeding out on our floor.”

Shiro glanced toward the direction Ichigo waved his hand.  Feigned surprise, “Oh, so he is!”

“Shiro!”

“Easy, partner.  We got this,” the pale look-alike said calmly, “in case ya didn’t notice ‘m a hollow.”

The redhead looked thoroughly unimpressed, “Clearly.  And how the hell does this help us?” he enunciated slowly, as if speaking to a young and ignorant child.

The hollow raised a single white brow, “Instant regeneration.  Duh,” he stuck out a blue tongue at the other.

“... I still fail to see how this benefits Grimmjow.”

Shiro sighed, smacking his forehead, “Ichi, d’ya r’member Nel?”

“... Yeah…?”

“An’ ya r’member she said some hollows got saliva wit’ healin’ properties?”

Ichigo frowned at the floor as he tried to puzzle it over.  His eyes grew wide as it hit him, “Oh.”

The inner hollow rolled his eyes, “Took ya long ‘nough.”

“You could have been a little more straightforward, you know,” Ichigo snapped.

Shiro waved a negligent hand at the redhead, walking over to Grimmjow’s unconscious body, “Yeah, yeah, if ya weren’t so dense I wouldn’t o’ had ta.  Help me get ‘im on th’ bed, will ya?  More comfy there.”

Ichigo nodded dumbly, moving to assist his other half.  Task completed, he stood near the bed with an awkward demeanor about him as he fidgeted, wringing his hands together.

Shiro stared at him for a moment, “D’ya mind?  Starin’s rude, y’know.”

“Oh.  Right, I knew that, I’ll just, uh…” he trailed off, belatedly thinking to point toward the door before hastily making himself scarce.  He closed the door behind him.

Shiro snorted and turned back to Grimmjow.

“This’s lame,” he muttered to Grimmjow’s deaf ears, “I swear, ya better ‘preciate this.”

He said that, but he did want to make Ichigo happy regardless, and he did consider Grimmjow ‘his’.  He hadn’t yet developed the same affection for the Espada as he had for his other half, but he nonetheless cared for Grimmjow in the same way he would a favorite toy.  

As an added bonus, he was getting a free taste of the Sexta Espada— something he’d already had once, but he wasn’t about to pass up the chance for another— so there wasn’t technically a downside.  He just liked complaining, if he was honest.

The white hollow stripped Grimmjow down and got to work.  Despite Ichigo’s panicking, most of Grimmjow’s wounds were superficial.  A few were a bit deeper and had some blood leaking out still, but most of the flow had ceased. He’d most likely be fine even without Shiro’s help.

“I swear King’s always overreactin’ ‘bout these types,” the inner hollow muttered to himself with a shake of his head.  His King had an obvious weak spot for the wounded and defeated, even if they weren’t explicitly innocent.

Not that he cared (at least, not currently).  Now that it was on his mind, Shiro was definitely not giving up this opportunity.

Did he have ulterior motives?  Of course he did, but that was to be expected, given his nature.  That was the excuse he’d give, should he be questioned anyway.

Crouching over the Espada, he slipped his tongue into a deep gash overlapping the scar from Ichigo’s Getsuga Tensho.  His blood was as good as Shiro remembered from the first time he’d tasted it when he bit Grimmjow.  It had a spicy tang to it, but with an underlying sweetness that sent Shiro into euphoria.

He lapped at the gash a few more times, coating the inside with a good amount of his saliva.  Leaned back to admire his work as the wound healed itself before his eyes, slowly knitting flesh and skin back together, and left nary a scratch or scar in its place to indicate it had ever existed.

He released a triumphant sort of hum at the success, returning to his task.  Another deep gash marred the Espada’s side horizontally, just above the hip.  Shiro ran his tongue along the skin just beneath it to catch the scarlet droplets, chasing all the trails, then dug the tip of his tongue into the wound.

Grimmjow flinched, though he was knocked out, so Shiro eased up slightly, careful not to hurt the blue-haired hollow like that again.  He gave the wound a few apologetic, gentle licks, sealing up the wound.

He knew he needed to be careful not to go into a frenzy while trying to heal him.  It would be rather unfortunate if instead of healing Grimmjow’s wounds, he ended up devouring him.  He’d sort of regret the loss, and somehow he didn’t think it would go over well when he informed Ichigo he kinda sorta ate their new fuck buddy.

So even though it would have tasted good and filled him up for a while, Shiro with sheer power of will refrained from eating Grimmjow.  He’d probably miss him.  Probably.  

Besides, the Espada could fill him up in _other_ ways as a thank you later.  He’d look forward to it.

With this in mind, Shiro continued sealing Grimmjow’s wounds and savored the taste while it lasted.

When he inevitably finished, he ran his tongue along his teeth and against the inside of his cheeks to get every remnant of the taste still in his mouth.  

It had been so good.  He wasn’t sure whether it was uniquely Grimmjow, or just because Grimmjow was the only hollow he’d ever tried this with.

Damn, was it hard not to just eat him whole.  It would have been easy.  Grimmjow couldn’t even fight back, and that made it all the more tempting to take advantage.  Especially since his instincts were screaming at him like no tomorrow that he’d never get such an opportunity like this ever again.  He was just lucky he had such good willpower.

He really… _really_ wanted to.  But he wouldn’t.

Shiro curled up against Grimmjow’s side and pulled the blanket over their bodies.  Grimmjow’s skin was a bit cool to the touch from the blood loss, so he’d have to take preemptive measures to keep him warm and prevent the other from getting hypothermia.  

The hollow snuggled up against Grimmjow, wrapping an arm and a leg around him, and tucking his head under the Espada’s chin.  He then fell into a peaceful slumber.

**

That was the sight Ichigo returned to.  Shiro cuddling with Grimmjow, both of them fast asleep.  It was actually… kind of cute.

Snorting, he climbed into bed with them, figuring Grimmjow could do with a little more company.  The redhead slipped under the covers on the Espada’s other side, throwing one of his arms and one of his legs over Shiro’s own and mirrored the look alike’s pose with his head tucked under Grimmjow’s chin on the opposite side.  He was almost immediately fast asleep.

**

Grimmjow yawned, stretching his arms above his head as he came to.

The first thing he was aware of was that the agony that had had his entire body in a vice like grip before passing out was completely gone.  It came as a surprise, but he rationalized that with how Ichigo and Shiro had been acting toward him recently, it was not unnatural for them to give him a hand.  He didn’t try to think too hard on it.

The second thing he noticed was the single most cutest thing he’d ever seen in his life (not that he’d seen anything he deemed cute, but he was sure that if he saw any other cute things, this sight would still top the list).

That sight being Ichigo and his inner hollow both cuddling against his sides.  They were adorable.  Like sleeping kittens... or something.

Settling back down, he wrapped his arms around their shoulders, tucking them both under his arms, against his chest.  

He could get used to this.  Not that he’d tell them.

They simultaneously sighed softly through their noses, both nuzzling against his neck.  Which only added to the cuteness factor.  He swore if they got any sweeter than this, he just might implode.

It was by about this point Grimmjow had realized Shiro was awakening in the form of an insistent sucking at the crook of his neck.  The Espada shivered, tipping his head back for the pale man.

Shiro placed a few open mouthed kisses up just the side of the column of Grimmjow’s throat, sighed through his nose again and lay his head back where it had been against Grimmjow’s neck.

The Espada would be lying if he claimed he hadn’t been disappointed about the white hollow stopping.

Grimmjow closed his eyes and hummed, “That was quite the thing to wake up to.”

“I try m’ best,” Shiro murmured, licking Grimmjow’s neck, “eager t’ please.”

“‘S that so?”

“Mhmm…” Shiro nipped his earlobe, “ya up fer a quick fuck?”

“A what?  Huh?”

“Make love, romp.  Bone. Do the do.  Get it on, screw, bang.  Roll in the hay, copulate, lust and thrust,” Shiro drawled, as if Grimmjow didn’t know what ‘fuck’ meant already.  Asshole (how were there so many names for sex, anyway?  ‘Lust and thrust’...?).  “I’m bottomin’.  Ya wanna or nah?”  Shiro sucked at the spot he had before, worrying the skin between his teeth and rubbed his tongue against it roughly.

Grimmjow moaned softly,” S-Sure.”

Shiro smirked, “Mm, good.  Think Ichi’d wan’ in on it?”

“... Maybe?”

He chuckled, “Good answer.”

Leaning over the Sexta, Shiro placed a smattering of kisses up the redhead’s neck and whispered in Ichigo’s ear, “Ichi, time t’ wake up.”

Ichigo’s nose scrunched up, reminding Grimmjow distantly of a bunny, “Mornin’ already…?” he asked groggily.

Laughing, the hollow nosed just behind Ichigo’s ear, “Nah.  Still night.”

Ichigo cracked one soft brown eye open, “Why’re ya wakin’ me up then?” he slurred with a yawn.

“Wanna give Grimmy here a fun time?” Shiro asked.

He tossed a leg casually over aforementioned blue-haired Arrancar.  Grimmjow scowled and shoved the offending appendage off, but Shiro just gave him a smug grin and put his leg right back where it had been.

“Not a foot rest,” Grimmjow snappishly grumbled.  He crossed his arms and glared at the far wall.

“Not from my perspective,” Shiro replied.

The banter would have likely went on if not for Ichigo climbing on top of Shiro and kissing him fiercely (which effectively cut off anything else he may have planned on saying).  The redhead thrust his tongue between pale lips and rubbed it up against the hollow’s blue tongue.  Shiro could do a little more than moan in half surprise, half pleasured approval.

“Okay, now I’m jealous,” Grimmjow said dejectedly from just beside them.

“Guess we’ll have t’ fix tha’, won’t we?” Shiro asked as he and Ichigo parted.

Ichigo nodded, grabbing the Arrancar and yanked him over to slam their lips together.  Grimmjow was taken by surprise, but quickly recovered and kissed back as he raked his nails down the redhead’s spine.

It was as their interactions were becoming more heated that he realized… he was naked.  Well.  When in blazes did _that_ happen?

Grimmjow pulled away from the kiss, shooting Ichigo The Look, then his eyes fell scrutinizingly on Shiro, “Any particular reason I’m already naked?”

The inner hollow shrugged and unabashedly replied, “Regenerative properties in m’ saliva.  Kinda hard t’ lick ya through yer clothes an’ I don’t like the taste o’ clothes very much anyway.”

“No, guess not.  Bet ya really liked the taste of _me_ though,” Grimmjow muttered.

Shiro sat up from where he’d been laying on Ichigo and shoved the Arrancar onto his back.  Straddling his hips, the hollow said, “Hell yeah, I did,” before kissing him so hard that their teeth actually clicked for a second, and viciously nipped at Grimmjow’s lip.

As Grimmjow pushed his tongue into Shiro’s mouth, Shiro sucked on it, rutting against the Arrancar’s growing boner.  Shiro’s hands roved down Grimmjow’s torso, then slipped back up, scratched down his chest.  Grimmjow gasped into his mouth, feeling his hips jerk up against the other.

“Fuck,” Grimmjow said breathlessly as Shiro pulled away from the kiss to suck at a spot at the base of his throat, just above his clavicle.

While the Arrancar panted and moaned, digging his nails into Shiro’s shoulders, the pale minx was pulling his pants off.  Noticing this, Grimmjow slipped his hands in between his cheeks, rubbing his fingertips along the crack of his ass until he found…

“What the—?!”

Shiro giggled.  Yup.  Definitely a minx.

“When did you…?” Grimmjow’s brow furrowed.

Shiro leaned back in to kiss him, “Does it matter?  Ya gonna fuck me or nah?”

“You wanted this more than you’re letting on,” Grimmjow observed.

“I think I deserve a treat fer savin’ yer ass,” Shiro rubbed back against Grimmjow’s erection, trying to get him excited enough to do his bidding.

The Espada countered with, “Ya got to sap me of a whole lotta my blood.”

But even as he said this he was grinding back against the other, aching to enter him already.  He was even good and ready, ripe for the taking.  Grimmjow was still wondering when the hell he’d managed to prepare himself so well.

He didn’t really get to continue that line of thought, because at that precise moment Shiro got tired of waiting.  He’d scooted back on Grimmjow’s thighs to grab his erection and began sucking him off.

Grimmjow bit his lip to muffle a moan, “Alright already, asshole.  Fine.  Just— just stop that, or I won’t get a chance t’ fuck ya before I cum.”

Shiro smirked triumphantly as he pulled off, “Glad I got yer attention finally.”

Grimmjow quirked a brow, “Less talkin’, more fuckin’.  That’s what you wanted right?”

“Course I do,” Shiro replied easily, “but first, a different position.”

“What?”

Shiro gave Grimmjow’s cock a few lazy pumps, though he wasn’t in any danger of going soft any time soon, “I’ll show ya,” he then proceeded to turn himself around and hover over Grimmjow’s erection.

“Like this…?” Grimmjow was more curious than anything else.  What could possibly be so good about this one?

“New angle.  Haven’t tried it yet,” Shiro punctuated his words with insistent rubbing against the Arrancar, “don’t wait fer me t’ get old.”

“‘S that a challenge?”

Shiro gave him his cheshire grin over his shoulder, “Maybe.”

Grimmjow said nothing, but grabbed Shiro’s hips to pull him down as he thrust his own up at the same time.  Shiro’s response was immediate.  His back arched as he threw his head back with mouth open wide in a silent gasp, picture perfect.

“Good?” Grimmjow managed to grunt as he pushed deeper.  Shiro swallowed and nodded, closing his eyes in an expression of utter bliss.

“Better’n I thought it’d be.”

“You guys are leaving me out,” Ichigo scowled in dejection from where he sat a short distance from the two fucking like no tomorrow.

“Well then, get your fine ass over here and make yourself useful,” Grimmjow said, without pause in his rythmic thrusts.  Shiro was still trying to regain himself enough to reciprocate.

“Useful how?” Ichigo scowled more deeply.

Grimmjow grabbed Shiro’s hard dick, causing Ichigo’s white twin to go breathless again, unconsciously grinding against Grimmjow’s cock this time, “Won’t suck itself.”

Ichigo stared at it contemplatively, as if trying to decide whether he liked the idea or not, but his expression quickly became mischievous with an impish grin.  He crawled forward, throwing a leg over Grimmjow’s thighs and sat on his knees.  Slapping the Espada’s hand aside, he leaned over and swallowed down Shiro’s erection as if he’d forgotten what a gag reflex was.  He didn’t even flinch when Shiro thrust into his mouth, instead adjusting accordingly and swallowing around him.

This caused Shiro’s legs to shake, “Damn, Ichi, yer gettin better at this all th’ time,” Shiro gasped, finding himself thrusting into the redhead’s hot mouth as he went down on him at the same time Grimmjow thrust up, “ _a—ahh!”_

He became even further of a blushing, moaning wreck when the redhead slipped his tongue under his foreskin and swirled it around, pulling up a little after to suck harshly at the weeping tip.  Pulling back further to rub the flat of his tongue against the slit, licking up the droplets of precum.

Shiro stared down at him through his one open half-lidded eye, a vibrant flush of blue across his face.  When Ichigo looked up at him through long lashes and orange fringe of hair, that sinuous mouth of his wrapped so tightly around him, Shiro felt himself clenching hard around Grimmjow as a result, which in turn brought him closer to sweet release.

He’d needed this, he’d really needed this.  Fucking Grimmjow was fun, but this was almost better.

And then, Shiro was cumming.

Grimmjow’s own release was yet to come, “Damn, Shi, leavin’ me high and dry here.”

Ichigo tugged the debauched, gasping hollow off Grimmjow and started sucking Grimmjow’s cock instead.

“What the hell, you’re thirsty tonight,” Grimmjow moaned, taken by surprise.

Ichigo just kept sucking as he pushed slick fingers in Grimmjow’s entrance.  The arrancar hadn’t even noticed him get out the lube.  It didn’t take long to stretch him, allowing Ichigo to thrust into the willing Arrancar.

If Grimmjow recalled, this was the first time Ichigo was taking him.  He wasn’t sure which was better— taking Ichigo, or Ichigo taking him… both.  Both was good.

Grimmjow wrapped his legs around Ichigo’s trim hips, all too content to sit back and let the redhead do all the legwork.  He watched the redhead’s slightly flushed face above him, a few small beads of sweat dripping from his temples.  Grimmjow’s own face was much more heated and he saw most everything else aside from Ichigo in a sex-hazed blur.

Every thrust was hitting him just right in the spot where he wanted it to, but it was one particular thrust that suddenly brought him back to reality.  Oh, it was amazing how hard it hit him, he loved it, but rather it was the shinigami’s cry of surprise that brought him back from the edge.

“Sh— Shi!”

“Thought I’d help ya out back here,” Shiro replied noncommittally as he gave his fingers a quick twist inside Ichigo, “go on, keep bangin’ ‘im.  Don’t’cha lemme stop ya.”

Ichigo grunted, punctuating his next syllables with a thrust each, “Wasn’t planning on it.”

Shiro’s actions seemed to be doing their job properly, because Ichigo began to forge a ruthless, erratic and fast tempo into Grimmjow that frankly left the Espada seeing stars all over again.

With Shiro’s teasing, Ichigo’s thrusts were no longer precise and controlled as they had been, instead becoming erratic as the need for release crested within him.

Shiro chuckled and said softly in Ichigo’s ear, “That’s it, King, jus’ like tha’.”

“Ass,” Ichigo muttered venomously, but with him panting for breath as hard as he was, it lost its effectiveness and only caused Shiro to laugh harder.

Shiro snuck a hand around Ichigo and grabbed Grimmjow’s cock, causing the Arrancar to cry out and clench around Ichigo.  A few quick pumps and Grimmjow was coming, which meant the redhead wasn’t far behind.

Shiro pretended to dust off his hands with a couple claps after Ichigo came, “Ah well, m’ work here is done.”

“Fuck you,” Ichigo said in between gasps for breath, chest steadily rising and sinking with the motions.

The pale hollow quirked a brow, “Temptin’, but ‘m tired.”

Ichigo didn’t even bother with telling his hollow that wasn’t what he meant.  He was used to it by now.  He hopped up from the bed and slipped on a pair of sweatpants so he could cross the hall without scarring his younger sisters for life.  Retrieved a damp washcloth and returned to clean off his two lovers.

Tossing the washcloth in the hamper, he crawled into the bed between the two of them.  He lay his head on Grimmjow’s chest as Shiro scooted closer to spoon him and curl an arm possessively around his waist.

“Mm… thanks, Ichi.”

“Shut up or I’ll bust your balls,” Ichigo growled at the other.

Shiro nuzzled Ichigo’s neck, “Aww, yer not still mad a’ me fer ruinin’ yer fun, are ya?”

The redhead’s response was to reach behind himself and curl his hand around Shiro’s balls.  He squeezed his hand, threatening to make good on his promise.

Irrational?  Probably.  But he was tired and bitter, and Shiro really had ruined his fun.  In his opinion, that wasn’t fair and totally merited an aggressive response.

Shiro hissed, wincing and unable to flinch away with the way his more colorful twin had him in a vice-like grip, “Okay, okay.  ‘M sorry.  Jus’ stop squeezin’ m’nuts, ‘fore ya actually bust ‘em.  Kinda attached t’ ‘em, if y’know wha’ I mean.”

Ichigo pulled his hand away and glanced over his shoulder, “Excuse me?  Was that a pun?”

Shiro pecked him on the lips, “Unintentional, but yeah, sure.”

Grimmjow groaned and hooked an arm around the talkative hollow’s back to pull both him and Ichigo closer, “Shut up for five minutes and sleep.  You two chatter more than squirrels or somethin’, I swear.”

Ichigo couldn’t think of an adequate retort, so he just bit the larger man’s shoulder in retaliation.  Grimmjow raised a short blue brow, as if to silently state his point had been proven.

“‘M goin’ t’ sleep now,” Shiro announced, snuggling closer and throwing a surprisingly cool leg over both Ichigo and Grimmjow’s waists.

“Why the hell are you so cold?” Grimmjow asked.  He was tempted to shove the other’s leg off, but decided not to, considering that he really _was_ cold.  He could probably use the extra warmth.

“Dunno,” the inner hollow mumbled, “maybe ‘m cold-blooded.  Quiet now.  Sleepy.”

“That’s _my_ line,” Grimmjow grumbled.

“Goodnight,” Ichigo said before falling asleep quite quickly.

Grimmjow lay in silence for a few minutes after both the twins began snoring softly.  He knew why he himself was sleepy, but he was trying to figure out how or why Ichigo and Shiro were as tired as they were.  Based on the amount of sunlight from outside, it was broad daylight, early afternoon.

… Didn’t Ichigo have something called ‘school’?

Whatever, not his problem.

Grimmjow settled down and closed his eyes, willing sleep to take him.  

Problems could wait for later.  He felt safe here at least.


End file.
